The Only Girl In the World
by zoudini
Summary: Inspired from Glee and 'I Am Legend', a zombie apocalypse happens at around the time of Glee season 3. This is the story of Quinn's survival, as the only girl left in Lima, and how she will maybe find someone worth surviving for... Faberry, side Brittana.
1. The Only Girl In the World

**Okay so, this is sort of a Glee/I Am Legend crossover. Basically, sometime during season three of Glee, a zombie apocalypse takes place, leaving Quinn the only human left in Lima. This is the story of how Quinn survives. At this moment I am writing chapter by chapter, I have no idea what the ending entails. All I know is that this is a Faberry story, with some Brittana, and Faberrittana friendship. At this point I haven't sorted out other ships. Your comments are appreciated!**

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><p>Quinn Fabray cruised down the silent streets of Lima that overcast morning, hands loosely placed on the steering wheel of a shining black Cadillac she had carjacked last week in Columbus. It was vintage, a regular 1967 Eldorado she had spotted in an underground parking lot of a shopping mall. She steered the beauty around tipped over dustbins and piles of debris lying on the road, taking care not to scratch the car so soon after she had found it. Today was food day, Quinn decided; a day spent scavenging around abandoned convenience stores and markets for whatever she could eat. She would have to stock up on as much as possible before dusk – that was when <em>they<em> came out. The thought of not getting home before dark haunted her every single day. She applied extra pressure to the accelerator at that menacing thought, it was already nearing noon and she had done nothing productive yet.

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><p>After two years of surviving on her own, she had learned several things regarding her situation. For two years she had not seen another living soul in Lima. Quinn concluded that they had all either died, left or had been converted into those horrible, demonic creatures that to this day still made her shiver in fear and disgust. Sometimes she believed she was the only unaffected person living on Earth. How long had it been since she'd seen one of her own kind? It was too long. She couldn't even remember the voice of another human.<p>

Quinn's thoughts drifted onto her life before this 'apocalypse' had taken place. High school. What a distant and unfamiliar term that had become. Quinn had only been seventeen; a senior, when the world came crashing into chaos. She thought of the cheerios, her numerous ex-boyfriends… all these things were so insignificant compared to her life now. The only aspect of her old life that touched her heart was glee club. Quinn swallowed hard, thinking of the days she would spend flicking through a Tennessee Williams script while Rachel Berry arrogantly belted out song after song. It almost made Quinn cry out as though she was in physical pain.

Rachel Berry. What had become of her? Quinn gripped the steering wheel, punishing herself for not trying to suppress her thoughts of the past. Recently it had become more of a problem, at first she had tried to ignore thinking about high school, but every time she tried, more nostalgia would well up inside her; she missed the normalcy of life so much. The worst part was the loneliness. It was so silent. Sometimes the silence became so overwhelming that the sound of background static would burn in her ears. She would often curl up into a ball in the corner of her basement, hands over her ears and eyes squeezed shut, wishing for night to arrive faster. Nighttime. She knew when the day had ended as soon as the first bloodcurdling scream burst through the unendurable quietness. Then, gradually, one scream would be joined by another, and then another, until there was a whole chorus of cries coming from the infected. For a moment Quinn would feel relief from having a noise to hear at last, and almost as soon as the relief came it would be washed away with cold fear. Although nothing was more terrible than the silence of the world, the howls and shrieks of the undead never ceased to raise the hairs on the back of Quinn's neck. She shuddered in her seat, causing the car to jerk as if it were agreeing with her.

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><p>Quinn stopped the car outside a seven-eleven on a street that seemed relatively unfamiliar. She had to pry the automatic doors open, before stepping into a somewhat empty store. She set to work immediately, sweeping everything left on the shelves into a large duffle bag she had brought with her. There wasn't much. She paused to check the expiration date on one of the mac and cheese boxes: 1st June 2010. It would have to do. What other choice did she have? Within five minutes the store had been emptied into two large bags, both of which she flung into the trunk of her gorgeous car before hopping into the driver's seat and speeding away. A few blocks later she arrived at a small superstore and ran the same protocol. As she stuffed her fifth duffle bag into the trunk, she let out a heavy sigh. This was her life now. Survival. That was all she had time for, especially since she was so alone. Even after two years, this lifestyle was a unfamiliar to her everyday.<p>

Next up on her mental survival list: clothes. Don't scoff. Despite the zombie apocalypse Quinn still needed things to wear, especially when blood spurting all over you was a regular part of life. Quinn pulled up to a department store and casually left her car immediately next to the doorway. The large revolving doors needed an extra shove to even budge. Quinn's leather boots echoed throughout the eerie, dull-coloured mall as she made her way to the women's attire section. Quinn, Santana and Brittany would spend hours strolling this place, once bustling with life. On the left was the milkshake store they had spent years lounging in, and just up ahead was the massive penny fountain that Santana had pushed Brittany into one summer. _I'll never forget the look on Brittany's face! _Quinn chuckled a little to herself before shaking her head aggressively, failing again to repress her nostalgic thoughts. _You'll never see them again, _she declared in her mind, blinking away tears that were starting to form.

Suddenly in the corner of her vision she saw a movement. Instinctively Quinn placed her hand on the grip of her pistol, ready to shoot once again as she had done so many times since the disaster took place. She pivoted on her left foot, blonde hair whipping around, only to find herself facing a full body mirror. Tense muscles relaxed and her face softened before pouting her lips, embarrassed at herself for trying to defend from a mirror. Another sigh escaped her as she took in her tired frame. It had been a long time since she'd studied herself. There was never any time for the girl to be vain anymore. Quinn had quite obviously lost a bit of weight, and she had already been skinny before all this happened. Today her hair was left down, grown out considerably since junior year nationals. She'd had to cut it on her own since then, and was surprisingly adequate at the task.

Her eyes shifted down to study the simple, blood red (not real!) blouse that was buttoned up to her chest and tucked into dark navy jeans. A large belt hung around her waist, pulling her jeans down low enough that she had had to use suspenders to hold everything up. On her belt she kept her only two friends, two identical fully automatic glock 18s that she had 'borrowed' from the military reserve bunker in Columbus. They had saved her life countless times. Of course, they were not the only two weapons she carried around daily. On her side she kept a .44 magnum revolver in a holster on her suspenders, it was an exceptionally powerful gun she reserved for the most monstrous of the undead. Apart from that, a knife was also fastened to her black leather boots. Various types of bullets hung in belts around her thighs; it was all very Lara Croft. _At least I look like a badass,_ she thought, though she didn't feel particularly confident.

One benefit from being in a zombie apocalypse was an infinite choice of attire. Quinn's inner rich-white-girl personality surfaced and she found herself sifting through piles and piles of designer clothes. What would it be today? A Ralph Lauren sweater or a blazer from Zara? _If only I was not the only human left in the world, this would be perfect. _Instead she lifelessly moved clothes around; hazel eyes showing no emotion at all. Slowly she moved onto the necessities: socks, forty-dollar underwear… the whole lot. The next time Quinn looked at her watch it was four-thirty. _Shit! _Dusk was going to settle very, very soon. How long had she been here? It had to have been at least three hours. Quinn and her armfuls of new clothes raced out into the foyer, the only sound being her boots smacking the ground with new found purpose. Quinn shoved her way out through the revolving doors to meet a yellowing sky. She needed to move fast. After flinging her 'purchases' into the back seat she sped off home.

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><p>The Cadillac pulled into the driveway and then into the garage. The blonde settled into a routine, rolling up the windows, closing and bolting the garage door, unpacking today's loot from the trunk, and bringing it into the lounge. Next she checked all the windows and doors, made sure the wooden planks over all of them were holding steady, before taking her new supplies down into the basement. Thank God her parents had renovated it into a massive underground bunker, as though they were preparing for this exact circumstance. The basement had its own kitchen and bathroom, useful for when she was stranded in her home because of the raids. She did have to maintain her own generators though. It had not been two seconds after she sat down on her cot when the first bone-chilling scream pierced the silence. This happened every night, but every time Quinn still jumped, like she had been electrocuted. Quinn rubbed her temples as the screams developed into a chorus. She rolled her eyes. <em>Don't they ever get bored of this? <em>Pretty soon her exhaustion cancelled out her fright and she slumped into the cot, kicking off her boots and unfastening her belts. Lately the screams had had an increase in amplitude and duration… From Quinn's experience, that usually signaled that someone was being hunted. For a moment she allowed a hope to flicker in her mind, _could there be… _No. It had been more than a year since Quinn had seen a living human, by now all her optimism had been flattened into nothing. She quickly brushed the hope aside and instead reached for her earplugs and flicked the lights off, before sliding into a cold and lonely sleep.


	2. The Biggest Regret

**Back with an update! It may look like I know where this story is going but I really have no clue! In fact I only came up with this chapter's storyline last night. So it would be great if you guys could suggest some storylines/endings for me. Thank you!**

**Oh just so you know, Quinn was never pregnant in this universe. That would totally ruin the badass-ness. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong><em>Two and a half years ago, December 6<em>_th__ 2011_**

It all fell to pieces that cold, December day. For several months the whole world had been struggling with the global epidemic; only now it had finally reached Ohio.

Quinn Fabray sat in a fairly empty classroom, as most parents had pulled their kids from school since the outbreak began spreading. It was English class, and Quinn was sitting idly, alternating between watching the rain fall outside the window and analyzing poems by Pablo Neruda. Rachel Berry sat by her right, shifting in her seat. Up until now she and Rachel had shared a very rocky relationship, from the daily slushie facials to the name-calling and to the betrayals in junior year. Senior year was different though. Quinn looked up from her book to look at the brunette. Her hands were nervously drumming the table as she tried to focus on her poetry. _Man hands. _Quinn could not help grinning as she remembered her years wasted as an arrogant bitch. She had really grown up. Now she and Rachel had a mutual but silent respect for one another; they rarely conversed, but occasionally they would analyze a book together in English class, or sit by each other in the cafeteria. It was comforting to Quinn, almost as if Rachel really cared for her. Quinn continued staring until Rachel brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up. For a second they held eye contact, Rachel's bright chocolate eyes full of expectation, before Quinn quickly shifted her gaze ahead, biting the inside of her cheek to try and contain her blush.

One of the only things that stopped what the two girls had from blossoming into friendship was Santana. Quinn's eyes rested on Santana's back a few rows ahead. She was drawing little hearts on Brittany's arm as the blonde blabbered on about incomprehensible subjects, maybe about vacuum cleaners or something. Santana was extremely opinionated; any compassion shown to Rachelwas unacceptable. And Quinn was not ready to jeopardize her lunchtimes listening to Santana go on and on about being friends with _the hobbit._

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><p>Suddenly Mrs. Hagberg raced into the room and silenced everyone. "The government is releasing a statement about the epidemic right now. Figgins said it was extremely important, and that all teachers had to stop class to show it." She explained as she plugged in the TV.<p>

Some of the students gasped. Within seconds all muttering had ceased and the room settled into a tense silence. Rachel continued drumming her hands, obviously getting more agitated by the minute. Quinn thought for a moment about grabbing them, maybe holding them steady for support. She was raising her hands to the desk to do so, when Mrs. Hagberg switched on the television to find the Secretary of Health already delivering her statement, and Quinn's hands dropped back into her lap.

"… _been confirmed that the epidemic is quickly spreading across the United States, at a much faster rate than the department first estimated. The situation… the situation has reached critical level, with more than fifty million people affected in the United States alone. At this point the government has decided that we must begin quarantine by state, and not county."_

At this, many of the students began moving closer to the TV; their attention held by the secretary's speech. Chairs scraped, papers slid off desks… They knew what was coming.

"_As of now, most of the affected people reside within the Mid-Atlantic and Midwest regions. From December the eighth, the following states will be quarantined – no civilian may leave or enter the state of: Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, Delaware…"_

There was chaos coming from the press and the secretary was barely audible. _The disease is spreading._ Quinn's eyes widened as the list grew longer. It couldn't have already spread inland, could it?

"… _New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio."_

Rachel stopped drumming. Santana dropped her pen. From behind Quinn, Puck slammed his fist on the desk. There was uneasy silence wafting around the room. The only sound came from the shouting media from the television. It was a while before the secretary could speak again.

"_I can assure you this unfortunate event is only temporary, but as of now there is no date of quarantine release. There will be further information about this on the government website, and statements regarding the quarantine will be aired soon for each state mentioned."_

The woman's voice was drowned out by the media again before she could formally finish her statement. The class watched as bodyguards began to escort people off the podium, while chaos ensued all around. Mrs. Hagberg switched off the TV.

Almost immediately after she did, principal Figgins' voice crackled to life on the intercom. "Children," his voice was grave even as he tried to remain emotionless. "I assume that you have just seen the statement on TV. It is no longer necessary to remain in school. The education board has suspended all schooling from this afternoon until… until an unknown date. Please exit the school in an orderly fashion, thank you." And that was that.

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><p>Puck was the first person to dash out, followed closely by Finn. Quinn couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. Then she remembered that her entire state was under quarantine and snapped back to reality. She stood up abruptly, sweeping everything on her desk into her bag. She needed to get home <em>now, <em>and leave the state before the eighth. _Shit. That's in two days._ _I have to pack my whole life up and get out in two days. _Quinn barely noticed Rachel speaking to her as she realized her desperate situation.

"Quinn? Can you hear me?" The blonde jumped, and turned to Rachel; a frustrated look on her face. She needed to leave now!

"Yes?" Quinn tried and failed to hide the impatience in her voice.

"I… um… well, you see today I decided not to drive to school, since it was so sunny this morning… clearly I was wrong – it's currently pouring outside…" Rachel tripped on her words, she noticed Quinn's eyes darting all around the room, not listening very intently. Quinn did not have time to discuss the weather right now! She looked over at Santana and Brittany; they were still packing their things, and Santana was yelling into her phone. Rachel cleared her throat.

" … but anyway, what I'm trying to say is I have no means of transportation… Would it… would it be all right if – if I got a ride with you? Mercedes and Kurt have already left school and… I really don't have anyone… anyone to help me out…" Rachel trailed off pathetically after being forced to admit that. She hung her head in embarrassment while Quinn simply looked down at her with seemingly absent eyes. Where did Rachel live? On the other side of town? She had no clue. It would only stall her plans to escape Ohio. _But look at her,_ she thought. She seemed so helpless, shifting her feet awkwardly. The brunette looked up at her with anxious – no – desperate eyes; how could Quinn ever refuse? It was like staring into a puppy's eyes. For a moment she forgot the quarantine. She swore she almost lost herself in those chocolate eyes, and decided she was ready to take the Rachel home… Until she was interrupted yet again.

"Hey! Quinn? Quinn _what_ are you doing? Stop staring at that dwarf and let's go!" Santana's voice was unnaturally layered with worry, but it was imperious enough to whip Quinn back to the present. She snapped her gaze to Santana, who was pulling Brittany out the doorway. Without thinking her feet started to move. Rachel's mouth opened a bit as she turned to watch Quinn leave. The blonde hesitated, looking back between the door and Rachel's distressed face. _I need to leave. _

"I'm so sorry." Quinn spoke with a sense of finality, and turned away. She fought the overwhelming urge to take Rachel with her, maybe bring her along with her family and leave Ohio together. The thought was wiped away as soon as she stepped into the hallways.

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><p>People were running everywhere, like it was Grand Central Station. The sound of lockers being emptied into bags and the words 'quarantine' and 'apocalypse' was all she could hear. <em>Apocalypse? <em>Quinn's brow furrowed as she searched for two girls in red. She found them emptying their own lockers at the end of the hall.

"Oh my God Quinn, we really need to get out of here, before this apocalypse fucks us all up or something." Santana slammed her locker door in and grabbed Brittany's hand, who was trembling quite hard.

"Santana how can you seriously believe that the _apocalypse_ is going to happen? All we need to do is leave Ohio and we'll be fine." Quinn was getting relatively annoyed at how dim-witted the rest of her school was. _Apocalypse? Really?_

Santana glared at Quinn as though she had suddenly grown another pair of eyes. "Did you not _listen_ to that old bitch-ass lady rambling on about quarantine? You seriously think that just getting out of state for a vacation will solve all our problems? No!" Santana was on the verge of yelling. She was indeed, very opinionated. Quinn wondered how on earth they were still best friends as she stood there being lectured. Brittany's trembling caused Santana to switch to a softer tone. "We need to go west. We need to get as far away as possible. My family and Brittany's are leaving together tonight – they just called."

"You should come with us." Brittany added. "Before the zombies eat you…"

People pushing past the trio caused them to be shoved against the walls. This could not be happening. Apocalypse, zombies… these girls had spent too much time watching movies together. "I… I need to tell my family first. I have to get home." Quinn said.

"Well hurry up. You better freaking call me afores we gets out the border, Quinn. Or you would've wasted all my time for nothing." Santana let out a small sneer with her final remark. She was about to turn to leave, but not before Brittany flung her long arms around Quinn and squeezed her tight. Quinn returned the hug for a few precious seconds.

"Bye, Britt." They released each other, leaving Santana and Quinn standing face to face. Santana held an awkward grimace on her face before letting out an exaggerated groan.

"Well come on then." She said. They both expertly hid their smirks as they wrapped their arms around each other – an extremely rare occasion – for a small moment. "Don't fuck this up, Fabray." Santana whispered into Quinn's ear. And before she knew it, they were gone, swept away by the crowd.

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><p>As Quinn slipped into her car she couldn't help but feel that this was the last time she would ever see them. She sighed and regained her composure. This was not the time to be depressed. Quinn backed out of the parking zone and started down the street. Looking at her rear-view mirror she saw a small brunette standing on the school steps, looking very tense – frightened almost. Guilt began pouring into Quinn's gut for a moment. She saw the girl clutch her bag to her chest and look around anxiously. Was she shaking?<p>

_I've got to get out now… _

Quinn tore her eyes away from the mirror and stepped on the accelerator.

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><p><strong>So... Hope you enjoyed that. I would really appreciate where to go from here! I have a few ideas but those are only short-term. Any suggestions for the long run?<strong>


	3. Fabrays Always Have a Plan

**Hope you guys have found it interesting so far. This chapter is quite long so I split it in two. However there won't be any faberry for a while as I set up a back-story. Bear with me? Your comments are appreciated.**

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><p><em><strong>Two and a half years ago, December 6<strong>__**th**__** 201**__**1**_

Quinn had been driving for five minutes before she realized how freezing the Ohio winter was. It had to be only one or two degrees out there. Chicken skin began to creep up her arms, and she shuddered in her seat, before turning up the heat in the car. Determined hazel eyes faced forward, and firm hands squeezed the steering wheel tight as she tried to come to grips with her situation. Surely her parents would be making preparations to leave by now.

She pulled her car into the driveway, ran through the icy cold and burst into the house. Her mother was moving heavy boxes into the garage when Quinn appeared.

"Mom. What's going on? I saw the news at school…" There was a tinge of anxiety in her voice as she trailed off.

"Quinnie, I'm so sorry. We're… we're going to have to leave. Tonight. There isn't much time to explain so you should start packing your things. But make it light, we're only taking one car so-"

"Where's dad?" Quinn interrupted. "Does he know anything more?" Quinn was getting restless. She did not fare well when she didn't have all the answers, things she usually had. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she quickly checked the lounge and the dining room. Empty.

"He's in the basement sweetheart, packing… things." Judy said, eyes turning to the floor. She shifted the box in her arms. "Say hello to him quickly and get up stairs. We don't have much time to idle around Quinn… please." Judy disappeared into the garage, and Quinn bounded down into her massive basement.

Russell Fabray was also shifting dusty boxes around, grunting and swearing under his breath as he did so. Quinn peered around the corner nervously, not wanting to surprise him. She and her father had always had a distant relationship; though they still loved each other all the same.

"Daddy." She said stoically, almost in a whisper. Her father's head shot up and he coughed, turning slowly.

"Quinn." He grimaced. Quinn looked down and saw what he was holding. A large, black shotgun, dusty but still very lethal looking, rested in his hands. Her eyes widened with shock and confusion. It was the first time she had been this close to an actual gun, let alone even touched one.

"Quinn." Russell repeated before she could speak. "Don't be scared. This… this is just for our safety… should anything bad happen when we leave tonight." His grimace deepened. He was obviously not doing a good job of reassuring his daughter.

"What…" Quinn cleared her throat. "Is something bad gonna happen?" She knew he was hiding something.

"What? No! It's just that I need to make sure-" Quinn cut him off.

"Dad please just tell me what's going on. You're a doctor! I know you're not telling me everything." She raised her voice, her restlessness breaking out in flashes of irritation. Russell sighed for a moment and looked away. He remained facing away from her as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Quinn, this-this disease, it's not like any other we've ever seen. The virus caused a pandemic faster than any other before, and its consequences are unheard of." He spoke with fracturing neutrality that froze Quinn in her place. "People with this virus… they don't just become weak and sick… something happens to them."

"What do you mean something _happens_ to them? Is that what the gun is for?" Quinn asked, pointing at the weapon. She crossed her arms and uncrossed them, forgetting how to keep still. She was incapable of imagining anyone, even her father, shooting that gun anytime soon. Why on earth was it necessary?

"Well, we don't really know what it is yet, but they do act quite unnaturally. They become slightly more… aggressive towards people, after the virus takes full effect. A little bit like going crazy."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him; he was still not telling her everything. To reinforce this thought, Russell broke eye contact with her every so often, clearly trying to avoid more questions. He started swinging the gun a little in his hand. Just as Quinn was about to open her mouth again, Judy started banging on the basement door.

"Quinn! Start packing your things!" She shouted.

Russell looked at his watch. "It's almost five, Quinn. We have to leave at six, so hurry. Please try and understand." He gave her his best reassuring smile, swinging the shotgun onto this his shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"Okay... I understand." Though she definitely didn't. Slowly she turned around to go, leaving the basement more confused than when she'd entered. That gun he was holding. It sent shivers through her body. This day was getting more mystifying by the hour.

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><p>Her room was dark when Quinn stepped in. She flipped on the switch and looked around. Certificates were plastered on the walls, trophies sat on shelves, and clothes were strewn about here and there. She thought back to what Santana had said this afternoon. <em>"We need to go west. We need to get as far away as possible." <em>Quinn scanned her room, still not understanding the gravity of the situation. Ominous thoughts piled up her mind. Would she ever sit in this room again? She looked at all her cheerleading trophies, all her accomplishments. Did they even matter anymore?

The distant sound of a dog barking abruptly stopped her mind wandering and she set to work. Quinn emptied out as many clothes she could from her closets into her duffle bags. She ran into her bathroom and packed away all of her important toiletries. Next she moved onto less important things. A few of her favourite books, some makeup… Her laptop. She couldn't forget that. The photos on the wall caught her attention next. She couldn't take all of them, so she settled on a photo of her, Santana and Brittany laughing together, and a photo of the glee club singing after their second sectionals win. Everyone looked so happy, despite all the arguments and back stabbings that had taken place within glee. For a rare moment they were all simply enjoying each other and the song. Quinn always got particularly emotional from this photo because she and Rachel had held hands during that performance. Maybe it had been unintentional, but for a little while they had become more than silent old enemies. She liked to believe that the physical contact meant that maybe Rachel had forgiven her for all the abuse she had suffered under Quinn. She liked to believe, that for the length of a song, they had been friends. That was why Quinn loved glee. It had brought her fun, friendship… love. She held both photos to her chest for a few seconds, before packing them away.

In twenty minutes Quinn had brought all her things downstairs and was helping to pack the car. Thank God her father had bought the newest Chevy truck, or else how could they have packed their entire livelihoods in one car? Quinn waited in the garage as her parents finished checking the house for anything else they could cram in. That's when her phone buzzed. It was Santana.

_Hey you better tell your parents that there's a huge ass line to cross the border. Hurry the fuck up and call me soon!_

Quinn let out a small grunt and jammed her phone into her pocket as Judy bustled into the garage. "Mom, Santana says there are lines forming at the border. Shouldn't we wait until tomorrow when it's less crowded to leave?"

Judy frowned. "No, honey. I think it's best we leave now. Let's get in the car."

"But we'll never get out at this rate! Why are we wasting our time when you and I both know we'll just be stranded on the highway all night waiting?" Quinn argued, but she was met with her father's gruff voice.

"Quinn, please. No more questions. We don't have time to argue." Russell stated as he gestured for her to get in the back seat. Quinn slipped in quickly.

"Don't you both realize that this whole thing is pointless?" Quinn pried at her parents, both were facing forward in the front. "Tomorrow morning would be a much-"

"Quinn that's enough!" Russell demanded, on the brink of shouting. He turned around, showing a strange anxiety in his murky blue eyes. It was unsettling to Quinn and put her in a fresh state of worry. _Something must be really wrong. _"We don't have time for questions. I won't say it again." After exhaling loudly, he started the car.

Quinn shrunk into her seat. She watched as they drove past her red Volkswagen, out into the empty street and away from home. No one was on the sidewalk. She counted two cars on the entire journey out of Lima. Her parents didn't say a word. It was almost dark, but she could tell they were heading to Fort Wayne as the car turned onto interstate 469. More and more cars started appearing on the same freeway; until there were so many that they had to start slowing down. More time passed and soon they found themselves stopping in the middle of a queue filled with possibly hundreds of cars.

The blonde slumped in her seat again. _I knew this would happen. What's wrong with waiting until tomorrow?_ Still, she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to irritate her father anymore.

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><p>After an hour of sitting in agony, she could not bear it any longer. People were walking along the road; presumably getting out of their cars to see what the holdup was. Quinn felt claustrophobic, being squashed by all the luggage in the back seat, and had been opening and closing her mouth over and over again as the things she wanted to say built up in her throat.<p>

Quinn finally decided to try her luck with a simple sentence. "We haven't moved in an hour," she remarked. Silence. She simply noticed Russell's grip on the steering wheel tighten. Quinn fiddled with her phone. Maybe she should call Santana. But it was impossible to speak to Santana on the phone without shouting over each other, and the car was much to quiet for that kind of 'conversation', so Quinn tried her luck again. "Maybe we should go see what's holding us up, like everyone else?" She ended her sentence with a sort of question, to show she wasn't trying to annoy her parents. This time they displayed a response, as they both looked at one another.

Russell swallowed. "You're right. I'll go see what's wrong." He said, opening the door.

Without thinking Quinn opened her door too, exposing herself to the icy air. "I'm coming with you," she announced. She could not bear another second in this crowded car.

Judy reeled around. "No Quinn I think it's best if-"

"Oh for heaven's sake Judy just let her come!" Russell snapped. He turned to Quinn and nodded his head toward the freeway. "Come on then,"

They slammed their doors and took off running, breath visible in the freezing air. Thank God Quinn was not wearing heels today. The line of cars seemed to go on forever, and it was several minutes until they reached a crowd of people. They arrived at the back of the crowd, unable to see exactly what was stopping them from moving forward. Russell began to ask strangers what was going on, while Quinn listened intently.

"Excuse me, sir? Do you know what's happening here? Why can't we drive on?" He asked.

"I don't know." The stranger replied. "An officer said he'd be back soon. They stopped letting people through an hour ago, but nobody knows why."

Quinn looked around as Russell questioned other people. Everyone had worried, grave expressions plastered on their faces. She noticed many with masks covering their noses and mouths. Were they already so scared that they had to seal themselves off? Or were they already infected?

Russell grabbed her arm. "Let's get to the front." He said, panic beginning to coat his words.

They pushed passed people, most of them grunting and even yelling at them as they did so. Quinn didn't listen. She was overcome by curiosity and dread as she wondered what could await them at the front. Suddenly a voice on a megaphone crackled to life.

"Attention civilians! New orders have been released by the US department of transportation. Starting at eighteen hundred and thirty hours, the borders of Ohio have been sealed for quarantine. No one may enter or exit the state unless authorized by the US government. Repeat; at six-thirty the border has been shut. Please exit the freeway immediately. All lanes have been reversed for your convenience."

Quinn stopped in her tracks in disbelief. _For your convenience? _They had to be joking. She shoved her way even harder to the front of the crowd, as the message was played on repeat. This was not happening. She would not be left stranded in Ohio at the mercy of this disease. The crowd was in an uproar, bellowing and swearing in the same general direction, demanding to be let through. People were even throwing things, why they had things to throw Quinn did not know.

At last she and her father reached the front, only to be met by a massive roadblock surrounded by the National Guard. They were forming a human barricade with their plastic shields. Behind them Quinn caught a glimpse of a fence being pulled up. There was no way they were getting passed without being pepper sprayed or beaten up. And that's exactly what started happening. A few people started pushing the guards, and they were met with either a baton to the head or the excruciating taste of pepper in their face. Quinn backed up in horror. She was standing at the front lines of a riot. Russell was screaming her name but she couldn't hear him. She simply stood there watching people get abused by the guards. In her pocket, her phone buzzed again. _Are Santana and Brittany still here? _She thought as Russell snatched her by the wrist. He tugged so hard it caused Quinn to yelp out in pain. But she came to her senses quickly and started retreating from the crowd. It had grown considerably larger since they arrived, and it took them more precious time to get out of the riot.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a moment, a look of fear washed over Russell's face. He was very pale, and for the first time he had no idea what to do. Russell Fabray always had a plan. Until now.

"Let's go find your mother." He spoke in defeat.

Quinn's cell was still buzzing as they ran their way back to the car, dodging others who were running in the opposite direction. She fumbled with the phone before she could answer.

"Santana where are you? Did you get out?" She interrogated, not bothering with a 'hello'.

"Did _I_ get out? Where were _you_? I've been calling you for the last twenty minutes! We're already in freaking Fort Wayne! Where the hell have you been, Fabray?" Santana yelled back. She didn't stop there. Instead Santana blabbered on, complaining about the queue and lack of signal. Speaking of which…

"Santana I can't hear you, you're breaking up. Santana?"

"I said, _where are you?"_

"We… we didn't get out S, they've completely shut off the border. We're not allowed to leave!" Quinn's mind reeled as she realized what she'd just said. _We're stuck here, with the disease._

"What the fuck? Quinn how the fuck… happen? No wait, shut up, I know. Go to Columbus… Amtrak. They're still…"

"Santana? Santana you're breaking up! Santana!" Quinn screamed into her phone as she pounded down the road after her father.

"… Fucking signal! I…" And the line was cut. Quinn looked at her phone in bewilderment for a moment before running into her mother.

"Mom!" She shrieked in surprise, knocking into her. Russell immediately began to explain what had happened. They could still hear the faint sound of the message blasting from down the road. Apart from the big, bright lights shining down on them from the roadblock area, it was dark, and Quinn looked around to see pitch-black road and countryside. Although car headlights flashed around them, it wasn't much help. They had been left in darkness, literally.

"What are we supposed to do then?" Judy cried out, obviously very angry at the situation.

"Santana said something about Amtrak… maybe we could go to Columbus-"

"No. There's no telling whether public transportation is still operational at this point." Russell interrupted. "That's the first thing the authorities would start to control – transportation out of here. They don't want this virus spreading so easily. We simply should've left Ohio earlier." His face looked grim, brow furrowing as he tried to come up with something. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow to see if anything's changed. Maybe we can leave then."

Quinn grimaced and stamped her foot in disappointment. _If only I hadn't wasted so much time packing, we could've been in Fort Wayne with Santana and Brittany already! _Come to think of it, she had wasted a lot of time today, packing, talking to her father, arguing with Santana at school… listening to Rachel… Anger welled up in her. _How could I have wasted so much fucking time!_

"We can't just waste our time _waiting_ around, dad! We should find our own way out!" She burst out in sudden rage.

Her parents simply stared her down. "You saw what happened to those people who tried to push through. They were beaten! Be realistic Quinn." Russell scolded.

"So what's the plan then?" Judy asked.

They looked up and saw people making their way back to their cars. Russell noticed many of them looking sickly and pale. Masks covered faces, people stumbled… The virus was definitely spreading. Little did they know what catastrophe would arise soon. But Russell kept his mouth shut.

"We're leaving now." He decided to say. The three of them stood looking at each other, shivering in the hopeless cold for a while before walking quickly back to their truck.

* * *

><p><strong>I actually have the next chapter finished. It will go up today. I apologize for any spellinggrammar mistakes you had to endure!**


	4. Taurus Magnum

**So here is the third and final part of the flashback. I have this love/hate relationship with zombie apocalypse genres, and I sort of freaked myself out writing this, late at night. Hope you enjoy it, and comments are appreciated as usual!**

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><p><em><strong>Two and a half years ago, December 7<strong>__**th**__** 2011**_

Quinn witnessed several new things on the depressing journey home. First, there seemed to be more people on the streets. It was totally innocent, but just seeing people wandering casually seemed to heighten her anxiety. How could they all act so indifferent when they'd just been imprisoned in their own state? However as they entered Lima's business district things started to really change.

People were forming crowds around various shops, most of them superstores and banks. Then all of a sudden, the sound of breaking glass invaded the quiet. People were swarming the streets. _They're looting the stores!_ Quinn realized, as fires spontaneously erupted in the middle of the road. Russell swerved roughly to avoid a pile of burning trash, swearing loudly and honking his horn.

"These damn bastards are already looting the city!"

"It's a good thing I stocked up on food before all this happened." Judy remarked.

"Good, we're probably going to be stranded at home for a while," Russell muttered.

The look on some of the looters' faces resembled insanity. It seemed like they were all moving as a unit, though several people were climbing one another to raid the shops, and others were already involved in fights. _Animals_, Quinn thought. "Is this why you brought out the gun, dad?" Quinn inquired, thinking she'd figured it all out.

Russell looked at his rear-view mirror and studied Quinn's puzzled face; she was staring at the chaos occurring outside the window. _She's so_ _innocent._ A riot in the streets was enough to cause his daughter to shrink back from her window in disgust. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. "Yes, the people in the streets are insane here…" He answered.

It was then that Russell noticed there was only one car driving around on the streets, and that car was theirs. His eyes widened in realization as the looters turned their attention to the gleaming, silver Chevy that glided down the road. They were intrigued.

In a flash baseball bats and rocks started hammering down on the truck, Judy whimpering inside and Russell yelling at his windows but unheard by the crowd.

"They've all gone nuts! These freaks! What the hell do they think they're gonna get outa bashing my car up?" He howled.

Quinn's heartbeat quickened; she gripped the car seat with genuine fear, not making a sound. Russell stepped on the gas pedal, ripping his car away from the swarms of _beasts_ attacking it. There were several dents on the hood and minor cracks in the windshield. Russell groaned.

"Why did they start attacking us like that?" Quinn croaked out, still traumatized by the swarm.

"It's the virus," Russell admitted. "It's causing them to act strange, go crazy…" He silenced himself before he could say more. Luckily Quinn looked out the window, her attention diverted by a few people glaring at her, as though they were hungrily eyeing their prey.

* * *

><p>They seemed to be deteriorating as the Fabrays drove through Lima. In fact the riots only stopped appearing a few blocks from their home. Russell drove the truck into the garage and got out immediately.<p>

"Quinn. Put your car in the garage and close the door." He directed. "Be quick."

She did exactly as she was told without a word. Her father was acting in a bizarre manner and it warned her not to disobey him right now. After bolting the garage doors she entered the living room to find her father pushing around furniture, while Judy was bolting windows closed and shutting curtains.

"Daddy… what's going on?" She asked for the hundredth time.

Russell heaved a sofa towards the front door. There was only so much time before Quinn would _see_ what was going to happen. Why hide it from her any longer?

"Honey, go downstairs and get the Remington." He huffed.

Again he had deflected her questions. She frowned. "Remington?"

"The shotgun." Russell said, moving to haul the bookcase.

Quinn stared down the flight of stairs leading to the dark basement. The only sounds were her father's grunts as he moved furniture around and the frantic patter of Judy's footsteps on linoleum. Quinn couldn't lie to herself: she was scared of going downstairs on her own. After all that had happened tonight, why wouldn't she be? The girl hesitated for a long time, looking down with apprehension. The blonde looked over to her father's face. He held determination in his expression, which was enough for Quinn to swallow her fear and head downstairs.

She opened the door and immediately began fumbling the wall for the light switch. God, it was so dark in here. The lights came to life after flickering for a moment and she calmed instantly. The gun was heavier than it looked, around three kilograms, she guessed. It felt awkward in her slender arms, and she held it like it was a bomb that could go off it she stumbled. When she arrived at the top of the stairs, all the furniture had been cleared. Her father stood there, waiting impatiently, with a large metal item in his hand. He took the gun off Quinn and attached the item to the end of the barrel. _A silencer._

"Now," he began, "there may or may not be a time – in the very near future – where you might need to use this." His hard gaze fell on Quinn. Yes, he was being totally serious. Judy stepped into the room and watched the two of them with unease.

"This is how you shoot it." He showed her the right standing position, how to aim and how to reload the shotgun.

"Dad, I-"

"Don't interrupt. Now, take a shot at the bookcase over there."

"Russell!" Judy started.

"Not now Judy! Go on Quinn, fire at it. Try and keep the gun as still as possible."

Quinn wanted to object. She wanted to put the gun down, tell her father he was insane and go upstairs to bed. But something in his face stopped her. She had never seen her father so scared in her life before. She stared at him worryingly before looking down the barrel of the gun. She aimed, and pulled the trigger.

A somewhat loud, clicking sound emerged from the barrel as she fired, and the bullet punctured a hole in the bookcase. Judy jumped and yelped.

"Good. You'll need to practice that for a while." Russell commented.

The three of them stood there awkwardly. It wasn't as if they could just return to normal life, now that the entire state had been quarantined.

"Is anyone hungry?" Judy offered. Father and daughter both shook their heads.

"Let's sit down. There are some things I need to explain."

* * *

><p>Quinn sat, bouncing her legs up and down, as she listened to her father discuss rationing food. It was fortunate that her father had had a career as an army doctor, meaning he had valuable knowledge regarding their survival with limited resources. Russell moved on from food and stated simply that no one was allowed out of the house unless it was an emergency.<p>

"The virus spreads incredibly fast, and its symptoms need only minutes to take full effect if…" Russell trailed off.

"If what, dad?" Quinn asked cynically. It was nearing nine o'clock and by now she was exhausted from Russell continuously putting his explanations off.

"If… if any bodily fluids are transferred. That's the fastest way to infection." He chose his words carefully.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "So… if an infected person were to… have sex with me-" Quinn suggested.

Her parents stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Oh God, Quinn! No!" Russell retorted, astounded. "All one would have to do is… say, bite you… Something along those lines." At Quinn's reaction Russell instantly regret his decision to tell her that.

Quinn's eyes widened. _Bite me? Why would anyone be biting me?_ Quinn wondered.

"The point is, just stay away from people from now on, if you ever happen to be outside, okay?" Russell turned to Judy and started discussing other matters while Quinn was left to think about what she had just heard. This was by far the strangest day she had encountered. She leaned back into her armchair and rested her head for a moment. That was when she saw a figure in the shadows.

Quinn jolted up from her relaxed position and peered out the window for closer inspection. The figure seemed very familiar.

"Quinnie, what it is?" Her mother asked, beginning to feel uneasy again.

"There's someone outside… I… I think I know him from school." Quinn responded, standing up.

Russell joined her and looked outside too, a dark frown settling on his face. There was something a little too suspicious for a lone person to be standing in the middle of the street at night, back faced towards them, especially when they were in a statewide quarantine. It did not reside well with Russell, not one bit.

The man, _boy_ rather, was standing perfectly still, like a statue. Quinn studied him closely. Where had she seen him before? If only he would turn around and she would be able to recognize his face. But suddenly, without warning, he fell to his knees. She immediately registered that he was wounded, as he fell further onto his palms, coughing himself into a fit. His jeans were soaked in blood, and it looked as though he was having a seizure. She could hear him, hoarse and full of phlegm. It was Karofsky.

Quinn darted across the room. "He's wounded! He needs help now!" Quinn shouted to her parents. She began pulling the sofa away from the front door.

Horror spread over Russell's face in a second. "Quinn! Don't you dare step out that door!" His voice had leaped into a full-blown roar, face completely red. But Quinn did not see.

She ignored her father, flung the door open, and the cold blasted her where she stood, making her eyes burn. "Karofsky!" She called out to him. Although she resented him for torturing Kurt in the past, there was no way she was going to just _leave_ _him there _in pain, that would've made her just like him. "Karofsky! Are you alright?" He remained turned away, still coughing and heaving.

At first she ran towards him, but as she neared, it dawned on her that there was something seriously troubling about this, almost as if he was giving out a dangerous aura. Quinn slowed and stopped a few metres away. "Dave?"

Karofsky stopped coughing. The boy pushed himself up to his knees again. He turned around; agonizingly slow, exposing his large face first. Quinn gasped.

His skin was bone white, as if all the blood had been sucked out of him, leaving it shriveled like an old man's. His eyes had dilated to the point where they were black and ghostly. And his lips, pale and lifeless, pulled together in sneer.

Quinn took a few steps back at the sight of him. He didn't look like the burly football player anymore. Instead, he looked as though he was on death's door. He needed medical attention. Now.

"Karofsky… you're bleeding! You need help – my dad is a doctor – he-he can help you. Can you stand?" She asked, genuine concern on her face. It took everything not to run away.

The boy seemed to growl as he stood up, excruciatingly slowly. Quinn hugged herself as the cold continued washing over her. She was not aware of her father yelling from far down the block.

Russell watched as the infected boy stood up silently and faced his daughter, shotgun in his hand. _If only Quinn didn't know him, I would've finished the boy already! _He took a few steps out into the street, contemplating whether he should shoot him now. But Quinn was standing too close to the boy, and Russell did not want to hit her, or have her feel the misfortune of watching someone die. Not yet, at least.

Russell raised his gun in precaution anyway. "Quinn! Do not move _any_ closer to him! Step away from him _now!_" He shouted, fear thick in his voice.

Karofsky and Quinn stood opposite each other. The only sound was coming from Russell's yelling. Karofsky breathed deep and slowly, staring straight through Quinn with his black, glossy eyes. It reminded her of the looters in the city, eyeing their prey like animals.

Quinn stepped back further in alarm. "Karofsky…" She said, almost in a whisper.

He gnashed his teeth. A growl escaped him and in a second he was advancing on Quinn. "What…" Quinn began, stumbling backwards. "What are you doing?" She demanded. The boy said nothing and instead pushed forward a little faster, a strange hunger in his eyes.

Quinn cried out and turned to run, body trembling with fresh terror. She was just turning away when out of nowhere, she saw a hole burst its way through Karofsky's torso. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes almost bursting out of her sockets as she watched him stumble back, loudly sucking in all the air around him. His ear-splitting gasp made Quinn's stomach churn. Russell had shot him straight through the chest, and blood was quickly seeping out, soaking his white shirt with red. The blood was rich, making his McKinley football jacket seem pale and faded.

The blonde was speechless. She stood rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open at what had just transpired. Had this really just happened? Shock, fear and a whole array of emotions whirled in her mind, making her lose focus. There wasn't much time to take it all in though. Karofsky did not stagger back too far. He didn't fall to his knees, he didn't even cry out in pain.

Russell narrowed his eyes as the boy stood there; he actually _stood_ there as though nothing had happened. _Why is he not dead? Why isn't he even in pain?_ All Russell could see now were those monstrous, black eyes that were shooting daggers at him, making his skin crawl.

* * *

><p>What happened next simply flashed before Quinn's eyes. She slammed hard into the road as Karofsky charged towards her father, knocking her over as he did so, growling and barking at him like a rabid dog. Quinn barely had time to register pain from her freshly bleeding shins before Karofsky pounced on him, knocking the shotgun from Russel's hands. Judy released an ear-piercing shriek of terror as Russell and this <em>savage <em>wrestled each other, grunting and yelling in the process.

"Dad!" was all Quinn could scream, standing there helpless; pathetic, even. _Shit, shit shit! Think of something! _Quinn frantically scanned around for something she could do. The gun. The gun was lying on the ground only steps away from her. How was she slow and stupid? She darted towards the shotgun and aimed it at Karofsky's back.

Meanwhile, Russell grappled with the beast, doing everything in his power to keep it from biting him. One bite and Russell would… he didn't want to think about that. He stared into the eyes of the animal, its hellish eyes screaming for the taste of Russell's flesh.

"Shoot it! Shoot it Quinn!" He howled, trying to kick Karofsky away.

Quinn did immediately that. One shot. Nothing. Karofsky simply wrestled harder. Quinn shot again, trying as hard as possible to stop her own trembling, which was ruining her aim. Two shots, straight through the heart. Still nothing. In fact Karofsky seemed to grow even stronger, now trying to gnaw at Russell's neck. Russell had his hands on Karofsky's slimy face, keeping the distance between him and the the beast's mouth. Russell's own mouth was clenched, body soaked in furious sweat and Karofsky's blood.

Just then, his grip slipped. For only a split second his face was exposed, but it was enough time for the monster to clench down on fresh, human skin. Quinn heard the coarse sound of ripping flesh.

Both Judy and Russell cried out simultaneously in pain.

"Dad!" Quinn shuddered and cringed before lifting the trembling gun to aim at Karofsky again.

Defeat suddenly washed over Russell. He had been bitten. Yet, instantly an uncontrollable rage surged through his veins. He was _not_ going to die, not yet."In the head, Quinn! Shoot the bastard in the god damn head!" He bellowed.

Quinn aimed and fired into Karofsky's brain. And the boy's _finally_ lifeless body collapsed on top of Russell.

"This _son of a bitch!_" Russell croaked, tears in his eyes.

Judy raced over, failing to control her sobs as she knelt by her husband. _No,_ Russell thought. He needed to act fast. Russell pushed his anger aside and started lifting the body off himself. Quinn fell to her knees next to him, tears streaming down her face as she helped. Mother and daughter both gasped when they saw his neck. Every inch of it was covered in a dark, oozing red, and he reeked with a bloody, metallic stench. Karofsky had literally torn his skin off.

"Quinn, Judy. Please, look at me." His face held a grave expression. "We need to act fast, there isn't much time. I... I need you both to help me back to the house. Now."

The two of them helped Russell back. They dragged him into the sitting room and placed him in an armchair. Russell tried to keep his face as neutral and painless as possible. He started making decisions, formulating a plan. As they settled him in, he looked at both of them. Quinn. Quinn would have to do it.

"Judy." He rasped. It was agonizing to talk. "Go into the garage and get the ropes."

"But Russell your neck-"

"Damn it Judy!" He cried, before quickly grabbing his throat and then hissing at the pain of his own touch. "Please! Please just… just do it." He begged. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, a look of desperation on Russell's face. Judy nodded and turned, still slightly sobbing as she left.

Russell turned to Quinn. "Sweetheart, remember what I said about getting bitten?"

Quinn nodded slowly, eyes still wide from shock, a baffling expression taking over her face.

"Well, looks like it happened to me… I-I probably have the infection now." Russell tried to smile but it came out as a sort of grimace instead. Blood was running down his clothes, soaking everything. "I need you to do me a favour."

"Daddy…" Quinn started.

Russell cut her off. "Go upstairs to our bedroom, and go to my nightstand. In the drawer you'll find…" He paused to cough loudly, feeling himself grow weaker and dizzier. _Not long now. _"You'll find something… very special to me." Again, Russell selected his words carefully. "Go on."

* * *

><p>Quinn wiped her tears and sweat off her face with the sleeve of her jacket as she quickly crept up the stairs. She still could not process what had just happened. And her father, why was he suddenly so calm when he was now infected? The girl entered the master bedroom and opened her father's nightstand drawer. She raised her eyebrows as she stared down at <em>the special something.<em> It was a shining, silver revolver. She picked it up; it was heavier than she expected, more than a kilo. She had seen this gun before… when her father had just bought it. Quinn was ten at the time, but she remembered the day clearly, since it had been the first time she'd ever seen a gun.

"_This here is the Taurus .44 Magnum!" Her father said, beaming. He put on an exaggerated southern drawl. "It cost a hell of a lot of money, but from now on we won't be gettin' any trouble from anyone! It's a mighty thing, one bullet promises instant death!"_

The memory of that day flashed through Quinn's mind as she walked back down the stairs. She arrived in the sitting room to find her mother tying ropes around Russell to the chair. His feet were already bound, and Judy was tying his wrists to the armrests. Silent tears fell down her face.

"Daddy…" Quinn mumbled, hands suddenly clenching the pistol tight.

"Listen to me, both of you." Russell inhaled and exhaled slowly to remain calm. "In a few minutes, the virus is going to take full effect. That means…" He trailed off; he couldn't believe this was happening so quickly! "It means that… I'm going to become like… like-"

"Like Karofsky." Quinn finished for him. New tears welled up in her eyes, she understood what was happening. Russell was already growing pale, as though his blood was disappearing. Judy grabbed his hand.

"Quinn look at me." She locked onto his icy blue, eyes. They seemed so distant. "As soon as I start acting… unnaturally, you need to point that gun to my head and fire." He was being too direct and impassive for his words to be serious. Judy looked up at him in horror, but Russell only sighed. "Please don't give me that look. I don't know what else to do." He whined, almost like a child.

Judy let her tears fall. "Please, Russell, you're wounded. You're not thinking straight! Just let me-"

Russell shushed her, aggressively at first, but he switched to a softer tone, whispering things to try and calm her down. Quinn stood in front of them shaking. A lump built up in her throat, and she looked down at the gun with nausea. Her father was asking the impossible from her, and it had to be done in a matter of minutes.

When Judy stopped whimpering Russell faced both of them. His features had deteriorated so fast that he looked malnourished, his eyes had turned a dark navy and his skin was cracking; the colour of ivory. Quinn could see the resemblance to the infected Karofsky and stepped back in caution. Russell noticed this.

"It's almost time. Judy, get up and stand by Quinn."

"What? No! I don't understand, what's happening to you?" She begged.

Russell was barely audible as he rasped. "Just know that I love you both very much. Remember everything I've told you tonight, okay? And always have a plan. The Fabrays always have a plan." He sighed deeply.

Quinn waited for whatever he had to say next. Silence. Then his head dropped down to his chest, lifeless.

Judy wailed. She rushed over to him, shaking him. "Russell! Russell talk to me!" She slapped his face, smearing blood on her palms. "Quinn, what's happened to him?"

For a few precious seconds Quinn stood frozen, just taking in the fact that Russell had gone. Judy's frantic attempts to revive him brought her back to the present.

"Mom, get back here!" Quinn's voice was unstable; her hands were soaked with sweat as she tried to keep a firm grip on the pistol. Russell didn't budge. Perhaps he would remain dead? In an ordinary situation any other daughter would've been weeping over him, but all she felt was anticipation as she stood there glaring his body.

She grabbed her mother's arm and yanked her back. The two of them stood there in silence, staring at the corpse. There was nothing but the sound of Judy's sniffles behind Quinn. The girl's heartbeat was racing, thundering out of her chest. They stood there like statues, in unbearable expectation.

Then, slowly, a very low snarl escaped from Russell's lips. Both women froze. Russell… well, the _corpse of Russell_ began to tremor ever so slightly.

"Quinn, what's happening…?" Judy whispered. Quinn ignored her and studied the… the _undead_ _thing_ sitting in front of her. Its deep snarls morphed into growls, just like Karofsky's. Suddenly its head shot straight up, exposing them to a disgusting, shriveled white face that began screaming at them. It tried to shake out of the chair, but the restraints held him in place. The chair creaked and shook towards them, causing them to step back in fear. He growled and spat and screeched like a wild animal, its pitch-black eyes boring holes into Quinn.

"Russell!" Judy cried, trying to move towards him. Quinn slammed her arm into her mother, pushing her away.

"Stay back! Don't touch him!" She shouted at her. Quinn was visibly quivering in fear, but she swallowed it and faced what used to be her father. By now it was roaring at her, the room was shaking as though the very walls were trembling in panic.

Quinn ignored the cries of her mother and raised her gun, aiming pointblank at her father's head. How she mustered the strength to do this, she would never know.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, fingers on the trigger.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, that concludes the flashback of how it all happened. There will be some faberry and brittana interaction soon, I promise. It's just that I'm in the middle of mock exams right now, so updates will come at a slower rate from now on. Oh and also I have no idea how I'm going to structure the next chapter. Once again, I'm grateful for your comments.<strong>

**And sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes! **


	5. Loma Linda Linketts

**So, we come back to lonely Quinn. But hopefully she won't be lonely much longer…**

**I apologize in advance for any errors you come across. It's 2:30am and I am in the middle of exam period!**

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><p><em><strong>Present day, May 14<strong>__**th**__** 2014**_

Last night, like so many others, had been long and restless. Due to the constant cries of the undead going about their raids, Quinn had spent the night waking every two hours in cold sweat, battling with nightmares. At five in the morning she knew the sun had risen, since the ear-piercing screams had finally begun to die down.

That was one of the first things she'd learned about the infected. They were extremely sensitive to UV radiation and light. Very soon after the apocalypse started Quinn had gone around attaching various high-beam lights to her house to ward them off.

Quinn groaned into her pillow in relief, her fatigue finally beginning to settle in. The earplugs she used had not helped to numb much of the noise above ground, so she yanked them out and threw them on the floor angrily, leaving a slight ringing in her ears. Now the only sound left was the hum of the refrigerator across the basement. Quinn curled up into a fetal position and happily absorbed the refrigerator's hum as she drifted off into much needed sleep.

* * *

><p>Only an hour and a half later her alarm went off. Again the girl groaned into her pillow before hastily groping her nightstand to try and shut the annoying thing off. She slowly sat up, pushing herself off the bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. For over two years Quinn had woken up every single day at six-thirty – she needed as much daylight as possible to travel around Lima and gather supplies.<p>

She swung her feet onto the floor and got up, walking over to the mirror. Today she was suffering a nasty case of bed head. _It's time to cut the hair again. _Dark circles rimmed her eyes; this last week sleep had been so hard to come by, maybe there really _was_ someone being hunted, Quinn thought. _Whatever, they'll probably just die anyway, like everyone else I try to save._

Ever since she'd shot her own father when she was seventeen, Quinn had had several other experiences killing both humans and undead beings. She never had to shoot her own mother though, and weirdly regarded that as a blessing. Judy had never been bitten by the infected; she was simply ravaged to death by them. It had been hideously gruesome, but Quinn had seen so much destruction and carnage that daily bloodshed was regular business. She'd never think twice about putting a bullet through anyone's head. Quinn had been desensitized.

After putting together a breakfast of expired cereal and slightly off milk, Quinn grabbed a pair of scissors, stood in front of her bathroom mirror and gave herself a choppy haircut. It was no stylist's work, but who would be around to critique it anyway? She studied her new hair; it sort of resembled a lion's mane, messily layered and puffy. _I am now a ferocious lion, ready to devour you all, _Quinn thought sarcastically.

For a while she stood there, just staring at herself. Not because of vanity, or her ridiculous haircut, but because she was the only living being there was to see. Herself. Nothing ever moved unless she touched it. Everything was still and silent. She put one hand on the mirror and touched the reflection of her palm. How long had it been since she'd touched something alive? Thoughts like these invaded her mind every morning as she stood opposite the mirror. They'd been demoralizing her for a while now. After nearly three years of the same routine, Quinn was beginning to think about why she was still trying, if there wasn't anything or anyone to live for. _Why am I holding on so tightly?_

* * *

><p>This past week Quinn had completed all her 'apocalypse chores', meaning she had gathered all her supplies and finished maintenance on the house. She'd even made the trip to Columbus to find her new car and stock up on weapons from the armory. Occasionally Quinn thought about moving there; living in military reserve with an abundance of weapons at her disposal, but the city was too infested with undead to live in relative safety, and she didn't have the manpower to drive them out.<p>

The only thing Quinn needed to find today was gas. Petrol was already scarce before the apocalypse, and now it took hours to even come across a small bottle of it. Every time she went out looking she'd have to drive longer and farther to find an untouched gas station. She'd probably be out all day this time.

Today Quinn decided to go with a pair of black spandex. They were durable and easy to run in, which was important in case she was ever ambushed. After pulling on a white top, fastening weapons to belts, and hitching up her suspenders, she slipped into her boots and grabbed the .44 Magnum - her father's favourite gun, and the cause of his death. It was the last thing she strapped in everyday, to the holster fitted on her suspenders. The cold metal of the barrel comforted her, as though she was carrying Russell and his assertiveness with her.

After gearing up, she walked upstairs. No sunlight streamed in through the windows; every potential opening had been boarded up. She opened the door to the garage and hopped in the Cadillac. The automated garage door opened with the flick of a switch and Quinn was blasted with the sunlight. Pupils contracted in an instant while hands fumbled for sunglasses. And she was off.

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><p>After around two hours of driving aimlessly around Lima, Quinn had found exactly one unopened gallon of petrol she'd spotted lying around at the back of a convenience store. She'd have to back to Columbus <em>again. <em>Quinn sighed and dreaded returning. It was always such a rush; by the time she made it there it would be midday, meaning she would have to race around the city gathering things, like every store had suddenly gone on sale.

There wasn't really anything else to do, unless it required more supplying and maintenance, which Quinn was getting sick of. She found herself driving down a familiar street… Santana's, to be exact. How long had it been since she'd come here? This street reminded the blonde of the raids that had taken place long ago; this was where it had been the worst. Swarms of them had trashed every house and ravaged all the inhabitants. Many homes were in disarray, either crumbling or already flattened to the ground. Fortunately Santana's was in neither of those states.

As she drove past the fracturing, white suburban house, Quinn was flooded with memories; from freshmen sleepovers to drunken house parties. The sudden influx of emotions caused her to abruptly hit the brakes. For a moment she sat there in the middle of the street, contemplating whether she should go in and reminisce some more. Quinn had not been in any friend's house since school was suspended, worried that the feelings she'd feel in them would overcome her. But she couldn't stay away any longer. Every time she drove past, she'd feel a little bit more human; more connected to other people. That was what she needed most right now, since she was verging on insanity already.

The fading blue door needed quite a shove even budge open an inch. For five minutes she struggled with the door; and even considered using a rocket propelled grenade at one point to blast her way in. Once Quinn finally rammed her way through, dust started flying everywhere, and she coughed and choked for another few minutes. At last she regained composure, starting to look around. Cobweb empires occupied every surface and corner, making all the porcelain and marble structures appear ancient. Furniture had been knocked over and broken glass was scattered on the floor; _there were many struggles in this house, _Quinn observed, as she caught site of a few old bloodstains. Quinn thought of Santana, what she would've done, how she would've reacted. _Definitely much more badass then I first was, _Quinn thought, remembering how pathetic and helpless she'd been on the night of her father's death. _I wonder if she's still out there fighting._

When she finished wandering the ground floor, Quinn took to the stairs. The floorboards creaked, one step even snapped under her weight as she climbed up. Instinctively she made her way into Santana's bedroom. It was still relatively familiar to her. The bed was dusty but made, the three of them; Quinn, Santana and Brittany had spent countless slumber parties on it, discussing Puck's flirtatious methods and other irrelevant topics.

Quinn took in the entire room. Santana had gained so many more awards than Quinn ever had; they were all for various sports and dance classes and other endless activities. The room even emitted a faint glow from all the trophies, eroding with age. More importantly, there were the photos. Most of them were with Brittany; Quinn had always known the nature and intricacy of their relationship, though she rarely ever asked Santana about it. She was the only friend who never questioned what they had.

The blonde moved over to where the curtains were and drew them back. Brittany's window was directly opposite Santana's. Quinn imagined the boundless conversations the two must have shared at their windowsills. _Life must've been easy when you're soul mate lived ten feet away from you._

She made her way to her second bed and collapsed in fatigue and a whirl of emotions. Gradually, depression and loneliness conquered her and she began to regret coming here, as the feelings were settling in so quickly. Quinn didn't notice herself drifting into sleep.

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><p><em>That night, Quinn had been told to return home by herself while out with her parents at a dinner party. Apparently all children were unwelcome at this 'dinner'. Although she was only a sophomore, she knew all her parents and their friends were going to do was get drunk and waste the night away.<em>

_She walked down the bustling streets of the business district, intent on catching a bus home if her parents were just going to leave her to her own devices. Then she thought: _fuck it. _She could do anything she wanted right now. So she decided to see a movie, maybe walk home, despite the freezing winter. _

_It was almost ten when she was making her way into the suburbs. She was deciding never to walk home again when she noticed Santana sitting on a park bench, arms and legs exposed to the unbearable cold. There was misery in her expression. _

"_Santana? What are you doing out here… and wearing almost nothing!" Santana remained silent, like she had not heard anything._

_Quinn rushed over to her and wondered whether she should give her one of her numerous outer layers. Though they had known each other since junior high, Quinn still felt awkward showing Santana so much affection, what with competing for head cheerio and all. But she was shivering pretty badly, and the blonde couldn't help feel sorry for her, so she draped her jacket around Santana. She didn't budge. _

_Quinn sat beside her, trying to suss out what was wrong. Santana's eyes were glistening, but she kept her tears on the surface of her eyes, clinging to them tightly. She was staring across the road, so Quinn followed her gaze. _

_On the other side of the street, there was Brittany. She was in a dance studio, obviously in the middle of a ballet lesson. The front of the studio was all glass, so Quinn and Santana could experience a fantastic view of Brittany's twirls and twists. The girl was never anything Quinn had seen before, a single spin of her body radiated freedom and joy. It was so enticing that Quinn got lost in her dance for a moment, drowning in Brittany's colourful aura. The whole thing was surreal, her elegant steps, the delicate arch of her back, the candy cane smile on her face. _

_When Quinn fluttered back to reality, her hands and feet had gone numb. She turned to Santana with new understanding and surpriset. Santana was staring with a certain intensity; in her glimmering eyes Quinn suddenly saw so many things she hadn't noticed just now: there was complete awe, there was desperation, there was yearning. But most importantly…_

"_You love her." Quinn said, as if it were the simplest thing._

_Santana wrenched her eyes from the dancer and snapped her face towards Quinn, ready to spit out a thousand excuses and reasons to justify the exact opposite… Quinn's sympathetic face stopped her._

"_If you tell a single soul," she hissed. But her mind was reeling too much, whether it was from Brittany's trance inducing body or Quinn's sudden knowledge of her deepest secret, she did not know. For once, Santana was unable to finish her sentence._

Quinn decided to bury away any teasing about this matter forever. "_It's okay, S. I've… always had the feeling that you, well… yeah." Quinn reassured, not wanting to add fuel to any fire she might have sparked. But Santana's face had softened too. "Do you always come here and watch her?" Quinn asked._

_There was a pause as Santana's eyes lingered on Brittany. "Who wouldn't? She's… she's perfect." It was all Santana could answer, unable to contain her smile. _

_Quinn was amazed. Of all people, it was Santana who was hopelessly in love, and at the tender age of fifteen too. The girl with raven hair and vengeful eyes had been tamed by the most innocent, rainbow-loving girl, named Brittany. Quinn studied Santana's gaze a little longer, thinking how she'd never looked at Finn or Puck like this, how they'd never made her swoon or fall into a trance like Santana was in now. Quinn simply didn't understand the feeling._

"_Can I sit with you for a while, Santana?" _

"_Yeah." Santana replied, eyes turning back to Brittany. She was stretching her slender legs on the bar, laughing giddily as she leaned forward with ease. "Thanks for the jacket."_

_Quinn's eyebrows rose slightly at Santana's unusual display of thanks. _Guess that's what love can do to you, _she thought happily, leaning back on the bench by a friend. Only now she was sure that Santana was, and had always been, her closest friend._

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><p>The sun was setting as Quinn's eyelids began to part. She glimpsed at the sky outside Santana's window. <em>It's so pretty, yellow and gold and pink…<em>

Quinn shot up like a rocket. Oh God, the sky was getting darker by the minute. _Keep calm, keep calm, I can get out of here. The Fabrays always have a plan… plan… Fuck! Coming here was _such_ a bad idea! _She would definitely pay for this today. As soon as the first streaks of purple appeared in the sky, the screams would start and she'd be stranded here. Maybe hunted out. That could not happen again. Quinn creaked down the stairs, making more noise than she could allow at this point. She looked at her watch: five-thirty. Definitely not good. Would there be enough time to get home? The undead would be able to track her scent easily, and they must be starving since she was certain she was the only one in this godforsaken town.

Quinn stood there tapping her feet, trying to solve the dilemma. _Stay here on the zombies' favourite playground, or risk being hunted back home? _God, it was impossible. Quinn paced the remaining decision-making time away. Five-forty-five. She was definitely stranded now. The girl was so tense and so angry with herself that for a second she didn't notice the movement behind her. Quinn whirled around, both guns already in her hands, and fired two shots in a single movement. They were loud, ripping through the silence. A moth fell to the ground. _A moth. _Quinn panted and clenched her teeth in a mixture of panic and fury.

She was so wound up that she'd managed to shoot a moth in mid-air. Her deadly accuracy was not a surprise anymore though. Instead Quinn cursed in her mind again, _why didn't I bring my fucking silencers! Now they'll come, for sure!_

She sighed for a long time, trying to control her temper. This whole day had been a complete waste, just like so many others. Would she ever learn her lesson? Now she risked dying. Quinn stood there, defeat settling into her. And then something occurred to her. _Why not die now? _She suddenly thought for the first time ever. _They must know I'm here if they're still around. And I'm probably going to die here even if I wanted to protect myself and live. But I have nothing to live for, so why not just fucking die now!_

Quinn was seriously considering this option, imagining giving herself up to the infected, as though she were a gift. It was crazy, yet realistic too. _They're probably really hungry, not having tasted human flesh in a while. It'd be a quick death._ Yes, there was no disadvantage in giving herself up to them. They wanted her; she wanted it to be over, it was a win-win situation. Perfect.

She was just about to open the door to her death when she noticed one last thing. Santana had a basement. Unexplored territory. Instantly intrigued and distracted, Quinn crept down the stairs, no longer afraid of dark cellars. She marched straight in, taking in the cool, dark air.

Once she found the lights, she realized that the Lopez family must've held out here for a while. There were supplies everywhere. Old food, medicine, even some weapons and ammunition were stacked on the shelves. There was a mattress lying on the floor, utensils were scattered around, clothes were folded in a pile…

Then it dawned on Quinn. _Someone had been here. Recently,_ she suddenly registered. Instincts took over her, and she found herself looking for other clues that would signal recent presence of human life. Hope, a feeling that she had cast away so long ago, began soaring its way back to her, as she frantically searched the basement. _Could Santana have come back? _Quinn could not help feel as giddy as Brittany as she flung items around the place, a grin working its way around her mouth.

Quinn sat on the mattress, placing herself in this stranger's shoes. What were they doing here? How long had it been since they'd left? She looked around the shelves again. The guns here were simple rifles and shotguns, similar to her father's Remington. The clothes in the pile were small, a girl's. _Santana._ It had to be her. The desperate girl searched further to confirm her suspicions. She saw a half-filled can of some sort of food on the shelf and snatched it. The label read 'Worthington Loma Linda Linketts, for Vegans'.

Quinn's eyes widened and her body lurched upward; head spinning as she made the conclusion at lightning speed.

_"Rachel?" _She asked.

Then she jumped, dropping the can to the floor and raising both hands to her mouth. She'd just said her first word aloud in two years.

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><p><strong>Quinn's biggest weakness = wasting shitloads of time. I figured this kind of matched her in her story lines on Glee. It took her freaking ages to get it together, and she was always changing her mind about cheerios and boyfriends and Beth. <strong>

**So, there we go. I got so impatient from writing just Quinn with her parents, so I packed in another flashback that I hope you guys liked. Quinn's gone a little crazy from being alone all this time, but human interaction may just be around the corner…**

**What do you guys think so far? Five chapters into my first fanfic, how do you think I'm doing? Your reviews are appreciated, as always!**


	6. Lion In Despair

**Hello again! I've enjoyed all your comments so far. If you haven't guessed yet from the reference to Quinn's lion hair, then I'll just say that yes, I am from Tumblr.**

**Anyways, let's find out if Quinn runs into anyone.**

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><p>Quinn barely had time to register the possibility of finding Rachel and deal with the shock of hearing her own voice, when the first scream of the night penetrated the silence. The cry was so loud and bone chilling that Quinn fell back into the mattress in surprise. It had been too long since she'd been in such close proximity to any undead, causing the utter fear she'd felt when the apocalypse first began to creep back into her skin, giving her goose bumps.<p>

As more and more infected joined in for the night, Quinn forced herself to calm down. She picked up the can of vegan linketts and studied it again. She'd definitely made a hell of an assumption just now. Surely a conclusion made this hastily was just the result of her constant yearning to see someone she knew alive again. Quinn didn't even know how long the can had been here. And there were plenty of vegans in the world. Why did the owner of this tin have to be Rachel? For a minute Quinn pondered why on earth a survivor would even _remain_ a vegan, it was a ridiculously difficult lifestyle to uphold in such times. But Quinn put all her nagging thoughts at the back of her mind; she had other business to deal with.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, Quinn had not brought her silencers with her today. That meant any shots she fired at the undead would only attract more. As she ran up the stairs, Quinn began formulating a list of objectives, something she'd practiced several times over the lonely years. <em>One: get off zombie lane. <em>This was her top priority. The street was what Quinn considered to be the home base of the infected. She didn't exactly know why; it was just the nature of things. Therefore most of them would be here to begin with, and that was already a disadvantage for her. _Two: Find the most efficient way to keep moving throughout the night. _There was one thing Quinn absolutely could not resort to, and that was to hold a pitched battle with the endless numbers of monsters. She'd tried it once, but was overrun almost immediately. Luckily her car had been only a metre away and she'd escaped. Barely. That sparked another thought in her.

To accomplish objective two, Quinn had two options. _Option one: House hopping. _This meant moving through Lima by utilizing the cover of houses, and changing location every five minutes. It was most effective deep into the night, when the undead had abandoned them to carry out raids. But now it was still sunset, and that option was risky. Most infected would still be hiding out in those houses, avoiding the last traces of light. So Quinn considered _option two: hit and run. _This involved racing around Lima in her car until she lost them or the sun started rising. You'd think it was a good idea, seeing that none of them had cars of their own, but Quinn had learned quite early on that it was not the case. They had extraordinary stamina, a trait she attributed to a constant supply of adrenaline in their system. So, they'd never stop chasing her. Unless she killed them all. And _that_ was too inefficient a plan for Quinn to consider.

Once again Quinn found herself looking warily at the door, wondering whether she should just be done with her life now. She was still so tired from not getting much sleep, and now she would have to stay awake the whole night to ensure her survival. Would she be able to make it another time? Surviving was exhausting, and getting evermore worthless as the days drew by without seeing another human face. All these years Quinn believed that luck had been on her side; her many escapes from death had fallen to chance, despite becoming a good shot and a fast thinker. Quinn was getting tired of depending on luck every time she found herself waving at death. Her hand still gripped onto the can of linketts tightly. She tried and tried to block the slither of hope that emanated from it, but it was useless. With a bit of luck, she'd escape tonight. With even more, she'd see another human again, whether it was Rachel or a stranger.

_Fuck it, luck is all I have left._ Quinn dropped the tin and headed for the door. It would be option two tonight.

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><p>As soon as she was one step out the door the screams instantly grew louder. <em>They're here. <em>Quinn clenched her teeth, realizing she'd parked her car right in the middle of the street, now exposing her to an attack. _Stupid stupid stupid! _She looked around cautiously before running to the Cadillac.

Nothing she could've done would've prevented an ambush, especially on this street. No sooner had she taken three steps then they had appeared; white, demonic creatures roaring at her in hunger.

Quinn ripped both guns from their holsters and fired at them immediately, without either a hint of hesitation or sympathy. _This had better not waste the whole fucking night. _All her shots were to the head, just like her father had instructed. That was the only way they'd collapse and die _for the second freaking time, _she thought.

As soon as she'd shot three to the ground, more appeared at the sound of her guns, just as expected. They charged at her; black eyes hungering and their mouths baring sharp, disgusting teeth. Quinn held her ground, shooting them down before they reached within five feet from her.

It had taken months for Quinn to get over how frightening they all looked. Sometimes she even thought she had recognized someone, maybe a student at her school she'd spoken to before. They still haunted her dreams every night, but for now, Quinn did not tremble once. She held a stern, determined face; mouth closed, eyes focused on aiming. The blonde ex-cheerleader had transformed into a ruthless assassin.

After taking out around ten of the infected, she started figuring out how to get into her car to escape. It was no easy task. First she holstered one of her pistols to open the door. Opening the door and shooting at the growing numbers of undead was also no ordinary feat. One even got close enough to slash at her, but she managed to duck in time and shoot it in the face from below.

Quinn dived into her car as soon as she could and began shooting at them from the inside. White, slimy hands reached in through the window to grab her face but somehow she managed to take them all down, dodging the slashes and returning them with her own knife. Thankfully the keys had been left in the ignition, and she sped away from zombie base as fast the wheels could spin. Now it was time to play hit and run.

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><p>They chased with unwavering desire for her. Quinn herself was now filled with adrenaline, racing around the streets at ninety kilometers an hour. Blood from the zombies she'd re-killed smeared her shirt, hands and face. Sweat coated every surface of her, but none of that was off-putting anymore. What <em>was <em>off-putting was the number of infected that were chasing after her car; for one person, it was far too many. She'd have to drive far away, out of the city to put enough distance between them and her. Did she have enough gas for that? Quinn really began to worry as she looked at the gas metre; it was resting on three quarters full.

She had no choice. This was by far the best way to escape them. The girl speeded into the night, putting more distance between her and the infected, between her and home.

* * *

><p>At around eight o'clock Quinn had completed more than two hours of distancing. Although she could no longer see them darting after her from her rear-view mirror, experience told her they would come. Quinn was now driving on the interstate, going sixty kilometers an hour. Her gas metre sat at half full. <em>More like half empty,<em> Quinn corrected; a natural pessimist. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. Where were they? She stopped the car. It was dead silent, telling her that there was no undead around at all. It should've been a good sign, maybe filled her with relief, but her gut told her something was seriously wrong.

They'd been acting unnaturally this week. She stepped out into the cool, summer night. After waiting a little longer Quinn decided to check for any signs that they were still coming. She pulled a sniper from the back seat, another one of her souvenirs from scavenging at the Columbus armory. After staring through the scope for a few minutes, seeing nothing but the dark shapes of trees and shrubs, she allowed herself to sink into confusion. This had never happened before. Had they all lost interest? _Am I now suddenly less appetizing?_ _What is up with them?_

Quinn grew curious. She slipped back into her car, which was now reeking of blood and sweat, and wondered what in hell had caused them to stop chasing her. She thought as the enemy would, placing herself in the steps of the undead for the thousandth time. Nothing was higher on their list than hunting humans. They were relentless. Thousands of infected could be in a human-less city and still come out every night seeking their flesh. She drummed her hands on the dashboard. _What else could they possibly be doing?_ _Playing golf?_

Then it occurred to her. The only thing that would stop them from coming after Quinn; she wondered, would have to be… would have to be… _if they were hunting someone else._

The realization was so compelling it made her jolt upright. Hope and energy swarmed into her body. She flicked on the ignition, eyes filled with a new determination. There was no longer any doubt in her mind. There had to be, there just _had to be_ someone back in Lima. And this time Quinn would make it her top priority to see that person, if it was the last thing she ever saw. Quinn was lacking far too much interaction with anyone; even a moment of eye contact was enough to make her content, content enough to die. She was _not_ ready to watch one more person die; she would not be able to handle losing yet another opportunity to see a human. If this one chance escaped her again, Quinn was certain she would not last. So she floored the pedal, going at the maximum speed of two hundred kilometers an hour.

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><p>In under an hour Quinn was speeding through Lima's streets again, undead screams getting louder and louder. Her car was making quite a racket, though Quinn no longer cared. She was overcome with her own desire to see this human, so much so that she had disregarded her own survival. Quinn didn't care that some of the infected were now trailing her car again, shrieking with their usual thirst for her flesh. She set all her lights to high beam to try and ward them off.<p>

Instead of running from the source of the screams like Quinn had done for as long as she could remember, she was now tracking them down. As she drew nearer, many undead started jumping in her path. She had to swerve several times to avoid them, but it was getting increasingly difficult. It was time to pull out the big guns.

As Quinn spun around corners and ran over dead carcasses, she pulled out a few grenades from the glove box. These were for emergencies only, but considering that there was another human very near her location, it was a pretty good time to be using them. She pulled the pin off the first one and threw the grenade out her window, watching from the mirrors as it boomed and ripped several zombies to pieces. _Maybe that will signal that I'm here too, and they'll come looking for me as well, _she encouraged herself.

By now the screams were so horrifyingly loud that they were hurting her eardrums. She was definitely getting close. Quinn threw three more grenades from her car before she saw the crowd. That had to be it. There were dozens of them, all gallivanting around a certain area. There had to be a human in there somewhere. Quinn could barely control her excitement, as though she was at a shopping spree. Despite the bloodthirsty zombies around her, she could not help but feel overjoyed. _I have gone crazy,_ Quinn concluded.

With that in her mind, she loudly made her way out of the car, slamming the door as hard as she could. In an instant all heads had snapped towards her in unison, dozens of eyes now hungrily boring into her head. Quinn relished in the attention. If anyone had been watching, they probably would've thought she had turned into one of the infected already, a bloodthirsty, hungry beast. But only Quinn was drowning in hunger to see a human again, not feed on one. Other than that, her hazel eyes had dilated to be just like the rest of theirs, and she stood there with a smirk on her face.

They immediately hurtled in her direction, but not before Quinn produced an M60 machine gun from her collection. She loved this weapon with a deep passion. Once she set it to full auto, one would probably truly believe Quinn had gone insane. The ferocious blonde unleashed bullets in a wild frenzy, her whole body shaking as the rounds came out. The zombies fell before they ever reached her feet, and within a minute she'd taken down several dozens. The girl grinned in sadistic satisfaction. Who wouldn't feel joy at killing the beings that had hunted you for years?

Once she'd cleared a significant number of infected, Quinn's thoughts returned to tracking down the human. He or she was not within her vision; they must've fled to hide from the sheer numbers. Now that the machine gun's ammunition had been spent, Quinn dropped the humongous weapon and pulled out her dual pistols again, taking off into a full sprint as she fired at zombies and searched for the human. _Come out come out wherever you are…_

Quinn followed the screaming, pausing to reload when she could. She could feel herself getting closer. More adrenaline seeped into her bloodstream at the thought. Again she made her way down the street, firing at the undead, swerving and diving like the assassin she had become.

Halfway down the road Quinn heard something unusual. It was a shrill scream, but not like a zombie's. This one was not full of anger and craving, instead it seemed to hold a certain level of fear. Quinn spun around, head shooting up. That had to be it. She was so close! In a flash she was darting back the way she came, taking down more undead than she ever had in one night.

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><p>There at the end of the street, she saw her.<p>

It was definitely, unquestionably, without a doubt, Rachel Berry.

Quinn's eyes were wide with revelation. She stumbled forward, losing balance for a second. Mind whirling and mouth hanging open, she tripped.

That only lasted for a few seconds, after Quinn noticed the horror in Rachel's eyes. She was weaponless except for a knife, and about to be overwhelmed by zombies. Desperation washed over everything as Quinn began sprinting towards Rachel with all her strength, screaming her name like a wild maniac.

"Rachel! _Rachel Rachel! RACHEL! RACH-"_

The brunette had a second to register a bloody, sweaty, and utterly deranged blonde dashing towards her before a zombie pounced on her body, smacking her to the ground.

Quinn roared. She actually roared, like a lion, overcome with new anger _No! This is not fucking happening AGAIN!_

"Rachel stay with me! Don't you dare die! Rachel!" She screamed as she began firing aimlessly in her fury. Two zombies fell before her guns ran out of bullets.

"_FUCK!"_

Quinn hurled them to the ground and drew her knives, while Rachel began a familiar looking wrestle with the demon who had knocked her over. She was miniscule compared to the large, strong monster that pinned her to the ground. But before Quinn could help her, another zombie rushed at the blonde, and in her anger at being distracted, she sliced his face open, blood and gore spurting down her own body. The savage shrieked out in pain as she yanked the knives from his face and took to the next one, and the next one, over and over again until they were all dead on the floor.

Quinn whirled around just as she heard an ear-splitting noise. That unmistakable sound of flesh ripping off flesh. On the ground, the only remaining undead had torn out a piece of Rachel's side, devouring it instantly. The girl let out a shrill screech, writhing in burning agony.

Quinn's blood boiled.

In an almost psychotic frenzy, the blonde leaped onto the back of the demon that held Rachel in place and drove both knives into its white, scarred back, pushing it off Rachel. She stabbed and skewered it in hysteria, tears of fury pouring out of her eyes. How _dare_ this monster take away the last thing she would live for? How _dare_ he? Into his body she took out her suppressed rage at the world, completely mutilating it until it barely resembled anything alive at all. But the beast howled in pain, still not dead at her hands. Quinn shoved a knife deep into its throat, seized Russell's pistol from its holster and fired six shots into head. It went limp instantly.

Quinn stared at the corps for a while, panting and quivering in her remaining anger. Then she collapsed onto her knees, and sobbed loudly in grief and instability. It was only when her cries were joined by Rachel's agonizing groans, did she stop. Rachel… she was still alive! Quinn hauled herself to the girl lying in a large pool of blood in the middle of the road. She had her hands pressed to her side, trying to keep her torso together.

Hazel eyes fell on chocolate. For the first time in two years, Quinn looked into the eyes of a living human, as new tears of relief now streamed down her face. As she placed a red, grimy hand onto Rachel's, the brunette exhaled, and blacked out.

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><p><strong>First, let me make this clear: do not despair! Things will go uphill from here, even though it looks grim. We're all going to be okay!<strong>

**Now, I don't know when I'll next update. It might be as soon as tomorrow or as long as three days. That's not long in fanfiction world right? Anyways, I have three exams this week, so I'll be busy. Please review in the meantime! This chapter was a bit rushed, I admit.**


	7. Socially Dysfunctional

**So this morning I fell asleep in my Chinese exam thinking about how I could write this chapter. FUN!**

**Thank you for all the fantastic reviews. Like I said, we go uphill from here. I'm so happy because now I won't have to start every sentence with 'Quinn did this' and 'Quinn did that'.**

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><p>The first thing she registered was the feel of smooth sheets on her skin, and the homely smell of its cotton. Mind hazy and disorientated, Rachel's eyes cracked open a millimetre. Her vision was blurry and she couldn't make out anything, just light and whiteness. But before she knew it, her eyes rolled back beneath their closing lids, whisking her down into peaceful nothingness.<p>

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><p><em>The street was exceptionally dark, with only the moon to watch them; a white, sinister glow bearing down on the two girls.<em>

_Quinn's blood soaked palm rested on Rachel's soft, warm – and most importantly, _living_ – hand, exhilarated at the feel, and with finally having found her long sought out solace. She felt her insanity and recklessness floating away at the touch of their hands. All thoughts about the girls' rough history were promptly abandoned, replaced simply by the sheer relief of having found a human being at last – and not just any human, but Rachel. Rachel Berry! The corners of Quinn's lips pulled into a small smile, then into a frivolous grin._

_It was erased almost instantly. _

_Looking up she saw that Rachel's eyes had closed. Quinn's heart dropped into her stomach and she called Rachel back, fearing the worst._

"_Rachel?" No response. Quinn's eyes darkened. This could not happen again. She wouldn't last one more day if Quinn lost the only thing she'd been wanting for almost three years. So she let go of Rachel's motionless hands and desperately ripped open her shirt, looking for the bite marks. Quinn had seen the whole thing happen; surely the zombie had not bitten her?_

_The wound was gruesome and repulsive even to Quinn; she'd rarely seen lacerations so big. A big piece of flesh had obviously been torn from the poor girl, but as far as Quinn could make out, there were no teeth marks in the body. She checked and triple checked, snapping a gaze at Rachel's closed eyes every two seconds to make sure she wouldn't suddenly regenerate into a monster. Still no teeth marks. Their absence was not enough to relieve the blonde though._

_Quinn grabbed the girl's shoulders, yanking her head off the ground. "Rachel? Rachel!" Quinn shook her vigorously, making more blood pour out of the gaping hole in her side. "Rachel wake up!" She choked pathetically._

_She slapped her face, trying to entice any signs of life from her. Rachel's pulse was weak and irregular, sparking alarm into Quinn. She repeated Rachel's name, over and over as she shook the girl. Tears streamed from her cheeks for the tenth time tonight, desperate to resuscitate the brunette. All at once the psychotic Quinn returned, eyes darting in a frenzy as she worked in a strange, focused delirium. First she sliced Rachel's shirt off completely, fully exposing the crimson wound that encrusted half of the torso. Fresh from a new round of adrenaline, Quinn began removing the ragged clothes off the corpses surrounding her, and quickly wrapped them around Rachel's wound. The rags stank of grime and blood, but she had no other choice. When she'd exhausted the supply of fabric from around her, Quinn slipped off her suspenders and took off her own drenched vermillion shirt, applying a final layer to the thick bandage. She shivered from a mixture of the chilly air and her own panic. _

_Suddenly the screams of oncoming zombies caused dread to surge through the exhausted girl. It was too dark out to see them; and the moon was not doing such a good job at helping, only providing a faint, ominous light. A look of anguish washed across her face. _It really cannot get worse than this, _she thought._ _Could she carry Rachel all the way back to the car before they all arrived? Quinn knelt in the pool of blood; eyes closed, half stripped and exposed to the cold while she weighed her options. The screams gradually grew louder and louder as the undead drew nearer to the girls. Once again Quinn was left with no choice. _

_Weaponless except for her father's Magnum, she lifted the very light Rachel into her arms, letting more blood wash down her own bare torso. Skin rubbed on skin as she carried Rachel down the street as quickly as she could, eyes constantly scanning for infected. By now every inch of Quinn was covered with blood, red streaks with blonde, elbows and chin dribbling with red liquid. A trail of it dripped onto the road as they moved. It would probably become a scent for the zombies to trace now, but currently Quinn had more immediate problems. _

_She could see her shimmering black car at the end of the street. Carelessly, Quinn made her way straight down the middle of it, shaking Rachel around in her arms so her head lolled back, but Quinn did not notice. _Just get to the car, get to the car…

_She was so close, just a few metres away, eyes locked on her precious Cadillac. The shrieks of the undead were pounding behind her. At last she made it to her car, yanking open the door and slid Rachel into the passenger seat as carefully as her reeling mind would allow. No sooner had she done that when they arrived. _

_Quinn dodged a swipe to her face, swiftly grabbing her last knife from her bootstraps and plunging it deep into the zombie's throat from below. It took an extra tug to bring it back out again, fatigue obviously showing in Quinn's movements. She stumbled a few times as she swiped blindly at the others, before taking out the Magnum. It clicked as she fired, empty of bullets._

"_God damn it!" She released a cry of frustration, remembering how she'd spent all her shots on Rachel's assailant. One of the zombies advanced on her again, swiping at her face. This time she didn't react fast enough, and she was slashed, three long wounds opening on her neck. Anger seeped into her veins as she yelled out in pain, before slashing at the attacker in revenge. She made quick work of the other three surrounding her, slicing their throats open in waterfalls of red._

_Quinn had just enough time to dive into her car before more arrived, throwing themselves at the windows. She started the car and floored the gas pedal, running over a few zombies at the front. Several more hung on, but as she speeded down the street, they lost their grip and she left them in a trail of dust. _

_It was three in the morning; the zombies' wails were already beginning to die down. There was no sound now except for the growl of her engines and her own rapid panting._

* * *

><p><em>It is really, really hot in here.<em>

When she next opened her eyes, everything was burning. Every part of her felt on fire, but when she tried to move, she found herself completely paralyzed. Her breathing abruptly increased pace, but air didn't seem to be filling her lungs, as though there was none in the room. Rachel began gasping desperately for oxygen, hands gripping the white-hot sheets in agony. Where _was_ she? Her big eyes bolted around, scanning the large room in alarm.

A blonde girl suddenly appeared over her, her eyes slightly worrisome but relaxing to Rachel all the same. She locked on those honey eyes immediately, finding some of her stability again. The girl had a fresh wound on her neck; it looked as if someone had slashed her skin open. Rachel squinted her eyes, trying to regain some memory...

"It's okay, you're okay… you're safe now." The girl spoke calmly. Rachel gradually stopped panting, her hands loosening the grip on the bed linen. For a moment she forgot how much blinding pain her body was in. It took a while, but eventually Rachel registered the girl as Quinn Fabray, and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You just have a fever," Quinn continued. Her warm eyes lingered on Rachel's for a second before leaving to adjust something by the bed, and once more Rachel found herself drifting off into limbo.

* * *

><p>When Rachel finally woke up to a stable degree of consciousness, she found herself alone in the dim, quiet room. A hum from some appliance floated around in the air, but that was it. Lying under all the layers of blankets, she was drenched in sweat, having just broken out of her fever. Rachel lifted the heavy duvets off her body, surprised to find that she was completely naked, except for her underwear. The brunette grimaced and groaned as she sat up; wound on her side still burning. It was wrapped in a large, white bandage, devoid of any blood leaking out.<p>

Rachel instantly remembered Quinn. She must've carried her back here, wherever _here_ was, _stripped off all her clothes,_ put her in her own bed, dressed her wounds, and treated her fever. The girl's cheeks reddened at the thought of Quinn handling her naked body, but it was quickly replaced by feelings of gratitude and safety, for Quinn had saved Rachel's life.

She sighed and leaned into the headboard. For too long Rachel had not seen another human being, and then all of a sudden _Quinn Fabray_ had appeared! Of all people, it was Quinn. A lifetime ago she had been her sworn enemy turned silent glee clubber turned distant acquaintance. Skip two year and now Rachel was lying naked… in her bed. The peculiar image was just settling in her mind when from across the room, a door opened, and a fully naked Quinn stepped out, her tall, slender body coated with moisture and steam evaporating off her gleaming skin.

Rachel's eyes enlarged tenfold before snapping her eyes shut in embarrassment, hoping against hope that her cheeks had not turned cherry red again. She 'subtly' slid her head down onto her pillow, praying that Quinn would not notice. There was utter silence. Rachel applied her best 'dead Juliet' impression… pleading to whatever God up there that Quinn would reenter her bathroom.

"Rachel?"

_Crap._

The brunette's eyes burst open to find Quinn standing a metre from her bed. Rachel jumped in surprised, a squeal escaping from her. "Jesus!"

Quinn backed away, looking a little sheepish. That was when Rachel realized she was still naked, and thrashed at her blankets, pulling them up to her neck. She huffed in faint humiliation, before looking up at Quinn, who was blushing; trying to suppress a smirk. This was definitely not a good start to greeting the first human you'd seen in years. An awkward silence passed, both girls not looking at each other, eyes not lingering too long on any one object. Quinn had a white towel wrapped around her – Thank _God_ – and was now sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes wandering a little too much for comfort. _How exactly do you interact with a human again?_

It had been way too long. But she had to start somewhere. Rachel cleared her throat loudly, deciding that she'd start with a simple…

"Hello."

Rachel regretted saying that as soon as it fell out of her big mouth. _Hello? Really? What kind of person says that in this situation? That was the stupidest greeting I've ever given, what is wrong with me! _Rachel was so lost in punishing herself that she almost missed Quinn's response.

"… Hi." Quinn replied, now looking at her with a shy grin.

Rachel shot up. _She said hello to me! Oh my God she actually responded! What do I do now, what do I do now! Oh my God this is so pathetic. Act natural, Rachel... _She was unconsciously beaming at Quinn, obviously a little too overexcited at the response. Rachel beamed at Quinn... smiling back at Rachel... who was beaming at Quinn's smiling at Rachel's beaming… and then they lost it, both breaking out into laughter.

Loud, joyous fits of laughter – something that had been forgotten long ago, now brought back by each other's rusty attempts at communication.

Quinn held her stomach, welcoming the pain of the stitch. How long had it been since she'd giggled like a teenage girl? She stared up in disbelief at Rachel. It had been less than a minute and already this tiny girl was making Quinn feel more alive than she'd ever been in years, maybe even more so than before the disaster had even happened.

* * *

><p>"Um… you were out for two days. I left a pile of clothes on your bedside – figured you might've woken up while I was away. Hopefully they're not too big." Quinn said, putting on a smile.<p>

Rachel sat stock-still. _I've been naked in this bed for two whole days?_

"Oh! Thank you, Quinn," Rachel replied, masking her shock.

Quinn went over to the table, pretending to move things around. Rachel threw off the blanket and quickly pulled on the shirt and pajama bottoms. She strained to move her upper body, wincing a little as she pulled her top on. As soon as she had, Quinn turned back to her, just in time to hear a loud growl come from Rachel's stomach.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd want something to eat." Quinn chuckled. Rachel simply blushed. "I remember that you're vegan… are you still?" Asked Quinn, mind returning to the vegan linketts. What a day it had been.

"Yes… I know it's silly, with the apocalypse and all, but I don't regard it as a significant enough excuse to start slaughtering animals for the simple purpose of _eating… _" Rachel stopped herself from blabbering, looking up to see Quinn simply smiling down at her, hazel eyes bright and warm as they had been from the moment she'd first woken up to them.

"In that case, I'll find something that'll suit your taste. You should probably stay in put, as I think there's about thirty stitches in your side." Quinn explained, looking a little nervous again.

Rachel gasped, holding a hand to her ribs. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, the zombie got you bad. Do you remember?" Rachel nodded, mouth still hanging open. Had it really been that bad? "I'm sorry Rachel, I really did the best I could though… if it makes you feel any better, I've done tons of stitches on myself!" Quinn held up her arms; lined with various scars. She gave Rachel a half-reassuring, half-apprehending expression, fully expecting her to be angry.

But all she felt was more gratitude. She ran a hand down her side. "No no, it's perfect. Thank you Quinn, really. You saved my life and-"

"It's okay. And I suppose you sort of saved mine too. It's just been so long since I've even seen a human, let alone spoken to one. And out of everyone left in the whole world, I run into _you! …_You know, if I hadn't been able to revive you, I…" Quinn stumbled on her words, not wanting to have to think about what she was about to say ever again. "I probably would've given up. You know might I mean?"

Rachel saw Quinn's expression sadden. She understood _completely. _It was as if a higher being had shown some sympathy, and had altered fate so that they could meet on that horrible night, simply to save one another from checking out early.

"I understand. I was thinking about giving up as well, for long time actually. These years, they've all been so lonely. I spent the time running from state to state, I actually made it all the way to New York too – I really wanted to see Broadway for the first time, even though I know I'll never have the chance to see a show in my life… The place was in _complete_ disarray, and there was infected swarming _everywhere, _in all the theatres and behind the stages! It was absolutely _horrible_ what the place has been left to; and don't even get me started on the Gershwin theatre… " She abruptly stopped talking, catching herself droning on and on. Rachel had been distracted again, sidetracked by her obsession with theatre. She looked up and saw Quinn giving her a puzzled look. _I definitely need more practice talking to humans._

"Um… well, anyway, I just wanted to say… I just wanted to say I'm really glad you didn't give up that night."

Quinn's warm, hearty smile returned to her face. "Me too, Rachel."

And she got up, leaving to prepare Rachel a vegan breakfast.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed that. Sorry that this chapter's a little short, I have a biology exam coming now! Again the next chapter could be up by tomorrow night or within another three days. I have about three chapters planned ahead, and then I don't know what the hell I'll be doing. No idea on the ending yet! <strong>

**Please review in the meantime. Thanks for all the luck for the exams, I'm totally failing all of them because of this fic but it's worth it! They're only mocks so you know, whatever.**


	8. HBIC

**I hope you all enjoyed this week's Glee! I loved _Summer Nights, _and the small Brittana moment.**

**Didn't update quite as fast this time! I know the last chapter was really racy, so from now on I'll try and make each one 3000+ words. It took longer to write this because I wanted to work on some character development, as I realized I really had no idea how to portray Quinn and Rachel!**

* * *

><p>"I like what you've done to your hair Quinn, it's so fiery and well… awesome."<p>

"Really? I thought I looked a little insane."

"No, it's great! It's very… spirited." Rachel replied, trying to develop a sophisticated vocabulary again.

Quinn thought back at all the times Rachel had complimented her looks, or her personality – as volatile as it was, to say the least – and how she'd never once mentioned a 'thank you' or shown any other form of gratitude. Her memories stung; the last thing she'd ever done to Rachel was abandon her on the worst day of their lives. Little did Rachel know that it was one of Quinn's biggest regrets, and to this day she still occasionally thought about the girl stranded on the school steps. Hopefully Rachel had forgotten that. Quinn was a different person now; yes she used to hate Rachel with a burning passion, yes she and Santana used to ridicule her on MySpace, or harass her with an arsenal of nicknames; _RuPaul_, _midget_, _that 'thing'_…

But it was over now. Their lives had been flipped upside down, beaten around, set on fire and left to rot… Quinn was beyond happy to have Rachel in her company. In fact, she was so 'elated', that when Rachel had gone upstairs without her noticing, Quinn suddenly had a panic attack, thinking she had run off and abandoned _her_. She was terrified to let her out of her sight; terrified of saying something that would push her away. So Quinn kept her mouth shut about their difficult past, at least for now.

"Tell me how you've managed to survive all this time."

Rachel thought long and hard about how to answer. Quinn had suggested that they catch up on ground level, so there they were, sitting in her dusty, derelict sitting room, enjoying the morning sunshine for as long as they could. Rachel had just finished devouring her first meal in two days, and the two of them were now sipping hot cups of coffee – God knows how Quinn managed to stock up on such a variety of beverages – and reclining in armchairs.

"You know, I've been running, like most people. The thing is, I never once saw anyone, so I've been alone these two years, just living day to day. There really isn't much to it – surviving. My dads… we were all together at first, but… there was a raid one night; there were so many of them… and they were bitten, so naturally I had to… finish them off."

Rachel said, getting her last few words out with difficulty. Despite it being so long ago, this was the first time she'd ever spoken of it to anyone. She felt a little weight leave her shoulders though, releasing her memories to Quinn. The blonde turned to face Rachel, giving her a sincere, sympathetic smile. She'd gotten over her parents' deaths too long ago, accepting and suppressing any the emotions about it.

"Yeah, I know how it feels. My dad was bitten on the very night the quarantine was announced; it was so long ago, and so fast! In fact, you're sitting in the very chair he… um… died in…" Quinn bit her lip, eyes falling down to study her feet. _Hmm, I really need more socks…_

Rachel took her hand off the armrest a little too carefully for comfort. "Oh."

She furrowed her brow in unease as she sunk into herself, feeling as though she was now sitting on a grave.

"Should I move to another-"

"Oh no! It's alright, I'm over it." Quinn said it like she had just dumped a lousy boyfriend. "No need to feel weird or anything, I mean, it's just a chair. No big deal, really." She chuckled a bit, remembering her father in that armchair… '_Quinn honey, pass me my scotch. This chair's too damn good for me to move from!'_ The memory pricked at her eyes for a second, praying that they'd stop talking about dead parents now.

Meanwhile Rachel took the little chuckle completely the wrong way, but pretended to disregard Quinn's shift of personality and perception of her parents – who were _dead_, _you know,_ _just in case you forgot_ – to stare slightly contemptuously at her coffee, figuring that a little of the old, cheerio Quinn was present. Though Rachel said nothing too, fighting to remain the ever forgiving, grateful person she had always been. Quinn _had_ saved her life, after all, for whatever reason. She couldn't stop thinking about it though. Her own memories swarmed to the front of her mind, where _this_ Quinn, the one she was sitting adjacent to, had tortured and teased her day after day, fought each other over the same boys, when maybe all they were really doing was fighting each other.

An uncomfortable silence wedged its way between them again, forcing sweat from their palms and their twitchy eyes to hit the floor. Quinn swirled the coffee around in her mug; it needed more sugar.

Now a battle raged inside Rachel's own mind. _She's being so nice to you! …But long ago she was ordering slushies thrown in my face… And yet she carried you all the way here, cleaned you up, and dressed your wounds! … And she'd humiliated me, ridiculed my face all over the bathroom walls; she even slapped me during prom, if you forgot. _

Rachel held to her coffee for dear life, gnawing on her lower lip. She forced herself to take long, slow breaths, as the thoughts fumed, bursting at the seams of her mind. The angry old blabbermouth living within Rachel absolutely could not be released at any cost, not when you were possibly with the only other girl left on earth.

* * *

><p>Quinn was getting hungry, and it was getting a bit too quiet, especially when there was one normally very talkative blabbermouth sitting right next to her.<p>

"Hey, I think I'm gonna get-"

"Quinn, don't you think you were acting just a _little_ bit odd about your parents just now?" Rachel interrupted, completely failing to withhold her inner bigmouth. Once released, it could not be contained.

"Wait what? I don't under-"

"I just think you might've been just a _tiny_ bit disrespectful towards your parents there, you know?" Rachel let her frustration out little by little, plastering on a polite-yet-snide smile, once very familiar to Quinn.

The blonde was dumbfounded; this had been thoroughly unexpected. What the hell was going on?

"Wait. I didn't mean to be disrespectful, not at all! I just-"

"Really? Because then you might want to note down a few things regarding what respect _actually_ is, since you quite clearly-"

"Hold up, back up for a second. And stop interrupting so I can talk! No, I wasn't being trying to rude at all, I was merely trying to make our conversation sound a little less depressing, you know? Because talking about our _dead_ parents getting torn to pieces is _definitely_ the most _pleasant _thing to be _reminiscing_ about! Why is not wanting to talk about it such a big problem with you anyway?" Quinn stood up from her chair, staring down at Rachel in confusion more than irritation. What on earth was going through that girl's mind? "Can we just... can we talk about something else?"

Rachel stood up to her, ignoring her question, totally lost in the argument and beyond return. "Did you not hear yourself casually dismissing your own dead father just now?" She held up her hands to exaggerate quotation marks, raising her voice in a slightly comical imitation of Quinn's. _"'I'm over it! It's no big deal! My dad's dead, so what!'_ Your own father _died_ in this chair, in your own house! Doesn't that impact you at all? How can you just stand there and be so heartless?" She walked right up to Quinn, glaring at her.

"Heartless? Why don't you just run your hand up that little stomach of yours; remind yourself of the _hours_ of _heartlessness_ I put into fixing that up." Quinn inched closer to Rachel's face, both of them radiating fumes of rage at one another.

"Don't go using that as an excuse for what you just said Quinn, and don't you _dare_ try and use it to cover up all the _shit_ I suffered under your precious cheerio pedestal you thought you sat on back at McKinley." Rachel spat, lifting her nose at Quinn, proud of her sudden outburst of profanity. She was very aware what she'd just brought up, preparing to deal with the catastrophe that would now come.

Quinn took a step back in utter disbelief, scrunching up her face in sudden abhorrence.

"So _this_ is what it's all about."

Somewhere deep inside her, the sixteen-year-old 'HBIC' resurrected, ready to do Quinn's bidding after almost four long, dormant years.

* * *

><p>Neither girl foresaw that their road to friendship would lead to disaster so soon.<p>

All hell broke loose at the Fabray residence. It had literally been less than two hours since Rachel woke up, and already all the high school terror the girls had spent three years suppressing was now being unleashed in a fiery battle unlike any other. No number of undead swarms could match their fury. They completely disregarded the dystopian state of the world around them, not caring that the zombies could possibly hear and come hunting. All that existed in this moment were two adolescent girls, doing what adolescent girls did best.

"You _stole_ Finn. There isn't any other word for it! There was _nothing_ done on my part that would've made him suddenly _fall_ into your pygmy arms. You _stole _him. Get that into your tiny little head Rachel, you STOLE, like a stupid _rat._"

"Are you delirious? You were a horrible girlfriend with a snappy attitude and extraordinary demands! How can you possibly say you had nothing to do with Finn's straying? You never understood him like I did, he simply used you for your status and irritatingly desirable features!"

There was a pause as Rachel realized what she'd just said. Thankfully her face was already red with anger, and Quinn didn't notice the blush, already throwing out her comeback.

"Are you so absorbed in your self-worth that you think things just gravitate around you? _Yes,_ Rachel, Finn simply just glimpsed at you and saw your _glorious_ stardom," Quinn snapped sarcastically. "Well he couldn't have missed his _journey to the stars,_ especially since your _schnoz_ is the size of his ass!"

And on and on it went. Like two women desperately trying to win a game of tennis, slapping the ball back and forth at each other. In a way their 'argument' acted as a cleansing system, for these high school grudges had kept with them until now. Another half hour passed before real feelings started settling in. Even the HBIC Quinn was getting worn out from the screaming, trying to yell over the expert windbag that Rachel was.

"Don't even get me started on that stint with Puckerman!"

"What? You have no right! You hypocritical little-"

"Oh don't start you try and throw this back at me Quinn; _I_ wasn't the one screwing two boys at once, like the _filthy slut you were!_"

If you watched from space you would probably be able to catch a spark coming from Lima's position on earth, as though a massive bomb had just gone off.

And one did, right inside Quinn. She stood there gaping at the red-faced brunette, obviously taken aback for a second. At Rachel's remark she pounced on the smaller girl, who was surprisingly agile. Rachel grabbed hold of Quinn's shoulders and shoved her back against the wall, clearly experienced from handling zombies for years. But Quinn didn't stop there. As surprised as she was at the girl's strength, she didn't let it faze her, and proceeded to grab Rachel again.

Both girls wrestled each other, grunting and yelling out a little too disturbingly. Rachel pulled at Quinn's short hair, suddenly loathing the style, regretting all the compliments she'd given her so happily this morning.

"And by the way," Rachel squawked as Quinn pushed her to the floor, "your hair _sucks!_"

"You lying _wretch!_" Quinn screamed at her, slamming her on the floor. Without really noticing, she straddled Rachel, pinning her arms down.

Rachel struggled against Quinn's compromising hold, squirming underneath like a dying insect. "Get the hell off me!" She cried, not wanting to admit physical defeat.

At her impending victory, Quinn softened her grip, just slightly. Rachel huffed, the curls on her face blowing away. "Take it all back." Quinn demanded with deadly calm, staring daggers down on the girl below her.

"_Slut!_" Rachel taunted. She used Quinn's loosened grip to her advantaged and yanked her arms away, then twisting her body out from under Quinn. She stood up gruffly, throwing her hair away from her face in a frenzy.

"That's what you are to me, Quinn, even though no one else would admit it! A promiscuous, selfish _whore_, who never did anything unless it was for her own gain! Finn, Puck, Sam, and then back to Finn! What were you, checking the boys off your long list!" Rachel hissed, staring at the wide-eyed Quinn kneeling in front of her.

"Come senior year you were already hanging with the _skanks._ You didn't even stop to notice _me!_" At that Quinn's face dropped into bewilderment. "Guess what Quinn? I knew everything. I saw what you really were! You never fooled me with your little _angelic_ exterior! And _I_ tried to see past it! I tried _really_ hard to be there for you, Quinn, because I knew somewhere inside, you _had_ to be more than that. But what did you do? You were silent! You pushed me away!"

Rachel's next words fell out of her mouth. "God, You even left me standing on the school steps!"

There was a long pause.

Quinn jaw dropped. She was speechless, just staring up at Rachel, who had tears forming at the corners in her eyes. They gaped at one another, Rachel beginning to break down and Quinn just… Quinn just melted; memory sent screaming back to the freezing December day as she watched a helpless Rachel stand – trembling like she was now – in front of the school, for the millionth time in her mind. How lost and hopeless her face looked… And then she slammed back to the present, watching the very same expression work its way onto Rachel's face again. She knelt frozen before the shaking girl, though inside her core had turned to liquid. Rachel had hit her right at the very centre; and still she said nothing, just soaking up the girl's words; feeling the heavy pound of her pulse in her head. This girl had been there in Quinn's background all along; she'd really wanted to be more than silent strangers. And Quinn had only thrown it in her face.

Rachel was now on the verge of crying. She wrenched her gaze away from those piercing hazel eyes gaping up at her and ran down to the basement, holding her fragile stomach as a sob slipped from her mouth. Absolutely every demon of a thought had been flushed from her conscience, and now she felt completely empty of emotion.

* * *

><p>Quinn wandered down some street in Lima in a haphazard, the last of her tears drying in the sun. She kicked at empty soda cans and other debris from ransacked buildings. It had been three bland hours since Rachel slammed the door of the basement as Quinn knelt, completely blown away by the things she had said; the things she'd tried to do for Quinn. And now the blonde had no idea how to face the girl that had tried to be part of her life. Rachel <em>cared<em> for Quinn, and she had no idea! How blind could she have been? Rachel was right, Quinn was so self absorbed in her reputation and struggle to appear desirable to all the school jocks that she'd entirely overlooked those who actually cared. During that September she'd pushed both Santana and Brittany away, disassociating herself from the cheerios, and beyond that she'd even fled from the open arms of the glee club. What was that all for?

The girl kicked over a garbage can in anger. She hated thinking about high school. It was all so trivial and irrelevant! Why did it still matter so much? _Because it's the only life I've ever had apart from this mess. _

Quinn suddenly stopped, realizing she'd walked right by McKinley.

There they sat, the front steps of her school, silently scoffing like they were taunting her for the last bad decision Quinn had made here. The place was overgrown with weeds and bushes, she watched as a squirrel made its way out of the smashed in entrance. All this time, Quinn had not been near the school, not daring to let any fragments of life here slip back into her mind. There was too much sentimentality, too much sorrow associated with this place, as terrible as high school had been.

Everyone believed she had it all. The queen bee, leader of the cheerios and celibacy club (though celibate was an amusing word to describe Quinn with, to say the least), everyone either respected or feared her. Most likely feared her. But Quinn lived in an entirely different world to what everybody saw. She herself lived in constant fear, fear that if she took one misstep her entire reputation would crumble before her eyes; fear that if she were too nice to anyone, they'd take advantage of her. Everybody thought she had piles of friends, being so popular. However in reality Quinn only had Santana and Brittany, who half the time were so busy wrapped up in each other to even notice her.

And Rachel. Rachel, who saw through the entire façade, even when Quinn was the epitome of a closed book. It was so noble, so magnanimously beautiful that a girl from the bottom of the social food chain had put aside any loathing she had, to simply try and _be there_ for her. Quinn realized in that second that Rachel had been everything she ever needed. With such a capacity for forgiveness, Rachel was a perfect opportunity for a clean break from her horrible life; one Quinn had evidently missed.

She slowly edged towards the entrance in caution. Each step taken towards the school reminded her even more of the life she spent in it's halls. _No._ Not today. She couldn't bring herself to go in yet. Perhaps there were zombies in there, making better use of the place than she ever did. So she turned around and continued her 'stroll' through Lima, trying to stay away from her own house for as long as possible.

How could she return with dignity? There was no way. She'd lost it the moment she became the heartless head cheerio. The only appropriate thing Quinn could think of doing was to kneel before Rachel's feet and beg for her forgiveness; maybe even kiss the floor Rachel walked on. And even _that_ would not make her worthy again. But the sun was beginning to fall from its high point in the sky, making the heat coerce the blonde into heading home. It was mortifyingly embarrassing; the HBIC had been bested, and rightfully so. _Thank God Santana is not here to see this._

Quinn walked back home, and stood on her overgrown lawn for an painfully long twenty minutes, pacing back and forth. She practiced what she was going to say, with no idea how Rachel would react. After all, she barely knew her! So how did Rachel happen to know so much about Quinn? _She must've been stalking me all this time, _Quinn thought egotistically, before punishing herself for still thinking like the heartless devil she used to be. It would probably take some time to change that habit. Quinn continued to practice talking to her rusty, eroding mailbox, trying to access the compassionate and empathetic side of herself that had been locked away for... well, forever.

Meanwhile, Rachel watched through the peephole in the front door. What on earth was Quinn _doing? Why is she talking to herself? _It had only been three hours, had she gone insane again? More perplexed than anxious, she grabbed the door handle and swung it open, causing Quinn's face to shoot up in scarlet embarrassment. In an instant the girls noticed they had both been crying, as their eyes were puffy and their hair was a total mess.

Quinn move to stand on the pathway to her house, hazel eyes now filled with shame and humility. All the 'practice' apologizing she'd just been doing washed out of her mind, mouth opening and closing in indecisiveness. She gave up on words pretty quickly. Now her face seemed to be pleading to Rachel, and she alternated between fiddling with her hands and her shirt. For once she kept her gaze locked on Rachel's eyes, no longer afraid of awkwardness or giving a strange impression. She'd already accomplished in doing much more than that. So Quinn stood there biting her lip, outside her own home, silently begging for the forgiveness of the girl who had once been the bane of her life.

Rachel stood in the doorway, watching Quinn with her tail between her legs. Her first thought was _success! _Oh how the tables had turned. Quinn was at her mercy, begging to reinter her own house! However, the look on Quinn's face reminded Rachel of herself once, weak and helpless that December day. Rachel was not one to play hypocrites. She turned to her side, signaling for Quinn to come in.

* * *

><p>They sat on cross-legged on the carpet; Quinn was leaning into her hand while Rachel sat against the bed, not bending her patched-up stomach over too far. Quinn was well aware of what was expected. Two words were really all that were required, yet, a simple 'I'm sorry' was obviously not quite enough to insure the physical and psychological damage she had done to Rachel over the last four years. But what else could she say? How could she make it up to her?<p>

She studied Rachel, who was drumming her fingers on her knees, probably humming a tune in her head while she waited patiently for Quinn to speak. Was she expecting an apology? _Of course she is you idiot! _Oh well, she had to start somewhere. Quinn swallowed.

"Rachel," Quinn started, almost in a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Rachel. I need you to know that... on the day school was closed, and I... left you there," she looked up at the girl opposite, hazel eyes pleading for support. The brunette returned the gaze with expectant eyes, urging her on.

"You've got to understand. I panicked, I was selfish and absorbed in my own worries and plans and... Rachel. I'm so sorry. I'm so, truly sorry. And I-I know it solves nothing, I know that what's done is done. But I want you to know that it's been one of my biggest regrets - leaving you there. I think about it a lot, what I could've - should have - done instead. That's why I'm afraid of visiting the school, because all the horrible things I did to not just you, but to _everyone_; I'm afraid of remembering them." Quinn looked away in shame, something she was still unaccustomed to. Even so, she soldiered on, finally opening her soul for Rachel to see.

"In senior year, I realized we had _something_ between us, even if it wasn't friendship. Quitting the cheerios gave me a new sense of humbleness, and you may always think of me as the obnoxious, cruel bitch from school, but I wasn't that person in senior year Rachel, you have to know that I was trying to change. And you, you were there this whole time, looking out for me even when you had every right to hate me, but I never noticed. I should have, though. I should have come begging for your forgiveness years ago. I'm aware that I'll never be worthy of it now... just... please, please know that I'm sorry." She sighed, voice about to break. Quinn looked at Rachel imploringly with glistening eyes. This was the first time she'd spoken so openly about her feelings. Not even Santana - _especially_ not Santana - had heard such emotion come from the usually very isolated blonde. Despite that, Quinn believed it had been a pathetic apology, one that probably gave Rachel no solace at all.

An excruciatingly long moment passed, before Rachel sat up, opening her mouth to speak. "I understand." She said, sincerity in her voice. "Thank you Quinn, for opening up to me... I really appreciate it. And thank you for letting me know that you're... sorry. Maybe... Now we'll have a chance to start over?" She dipped her head at Quinn, a weak smile playing on her lips. Something about her reaction was not as consoling as Quinn thought it would be. But she'd have to take what she was offered.

"I would very much like that. Thank you." Quinn replied meekly. _Does this mean she's forgiven me..._

"Okay." It was all Rachel said.

* * *

><p>They had their dinner at the basement dining table, where the howls of the zombies just barely penetrated through the walls. Though with each other's company - as tense as it still was - they were not intimidated by the sinister screams anymore. Most of the night was spent in silence, quietly appreciating the fact that they were no longer haunted by loneliness. But that was as far as this tranquility took them. No playful chatter, no more joyous laughing like they had shared yesterday; instead there was just more silence. Quinn started to wonder how this was any different to being totally alone; the only real obvious differences being that there was now one more person using up the oxygen in the room, and eating her unwanted vegetables. Quinn longed for Rachel to say something, anything to her... And more than that she yearned to be able to tell her anything, anything that would bring them back to good terms. <em>Admit it, you want Rachel to be your friend... You want to be able to tell her all your stories... You want to be able to tell her to stop picking at her peas... You want to tell her that she's got an eyelash on that massive nose of her's, and you want to be able to say it's massive without insulting her... You want to reach over and just brush the eyelash away, like it was the simplest thing...<em>

Quinn stared at the girl pushing peas around, hand resting in her palm again, dying inside. Who knew one could be so lonely when there was someone less than a metre away? Rachel twirled a hand around her wavy long hair, reminding Quinn of how she'd spent that horrible night washing the blood away from her body. Rachel'd never asked how she woke up so clean, and Quinn was too embarrassed to explain how anyway. It had been a strange experience for Quinn. After spending day upon day violently slaughtering undead, nursing someone back to health was the exact opposite. Quinn refused to admit to herself that she'd liked - even relished in - running her hands through Rachel's long hair, brushing the blood off her smooth, pale skin. It was such a change from shooting and stabbing that the whole night had been ridiculously exhilarating. But Quinn hastily crammed the thought to the back of her mind, not wanting to burst into tears at the table from her _stupid, stupid emotions! Get it together._

"You have an eyelash on your nose." Quinn blurted out. _Oh God._ _Why did I just say that._

Rachel looked up, slightly dazed. "Oh. Thanks." She took it onto her finger, closed her eyes, and blew it away. Quinn couldn't help but smirk silently to herself.

"What'd you wish for?" Quinn asked, trying really hard to maintain a tone of seriousness, despite the childish subject matter.

_For you to say something to me._

"Um... for those zombies to shut up." Rachel muttered, eyes glued to her plate in despondence.

"Yeah, that's probably never gonna happen." Quinn replied, the tone in her voice softening. "They know I live around here, you see. Damn those zombies."

Rachel slowly raised her head then, seemingly her wish had come true. She smiled oddly to herself, letting out a small chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Quinn asked.

"What? Oh, nothing, just..." Rachel paused for a moment, formulating words. "It's just... I'm grateful not to be alone tonight, even if we're... you know..." She trailed off, not wanting to ruin the mood. Quinn decided to ignore the last part of her sentence.

Instead, a warm smile returned to her face, melding with Rachel's chocolate gaze.

* * *

><p><strong>Finally! It took three days to write that! I now have a few plans for the story, at last. I hope my rendition of faberry has been satisfying so far... It may take up to three more days for the next chapter! Although next week I am on holiday, so I'll have more time to write.<strong>

**Please review in the meantime! Any suggestions for the plot would be great. And if you managed to read through any disastrous spelling/grammar mistakes, I applaud you!**


	9. Evolution

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in such a long time! I was busy with, well, life. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this week's Glee! I loved La Isla Bonita. But I could not stand Will's rendition of Elvis… I think part of me died while watching it.**

**Also many of you are getting the gist that Rachel might be a lot more badass than she seems… We'll see where that goes. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three days later<strong>_

Quinn lay in the cot she'd set up a couple feet away from her bed – the bed in which Rachel currently occupied, sleeping face turned towards her. Rachel's breathing was deep and silent; her legs tangled tightly in the sheets and bed linen around her. These past few nights she had thrashed and writhed violently in her sleep; something Quinn did not avoid noticing. So she suffers nightmares too. Not only was her expert stitch work in jeopardy, but Rachel's tossing and turning enticed a sense of fear in the room, as the shine of sweat would settle on her distressed face every one point Quinn had even thought about… well, maybe holding her still… to comfort her, maybe… or something along those lines…

_The sheets need changing,_ Quinn thought, hastily turning away from Rachel's face, as though the girl could hear her thoughts. She'd spotted a couple bloodstains here and there, probably from leaking wounds. She thought back to the pathetic bitch fight they'd had a few days ago; Quinn had completely forgotten the fragile state Rachel's body was in, slamming her against the wall, pushing her to the floor… _straddling her torso…_

_God damn it, Quinn. _She let out a deep breath, folding her arms around her own body. The cot squeaked and twitched, breaking through the dry silence of the early morning. Choosing to get up first, Quinn yanked the forever useless plugs from her ears and shuffled her way into the kitchen area, randomly fumbling with boxes and cans just to waste some time – something she'd never had the luxury of doing, since she'd been alone all this time.

At last she decided on making Rachel yet another tasteless breakfast. It was bland, but what could one expect in the middle of the apocalypse? Old, soft cereal, some trail mix bar things, preserved dried fruit. Then she made her way to the giant freezer she'd 'borrowed' from grocery store (it had taken her weeks to get it back home, _God it was so heavy_) and pulled out a bottle of unopened orange concentrate. Perhaps this one would taste slightly better than the other seven they'd regurgitated.

She put the breakfast onto a tray and tiptoed back to the soundless Rachel, brown hair thrown across the pillows and tranquil face. Glass and bowls chimed as Quinn set the tray down lightly on the edge of the bed, causing Rachel to shuffle slightly; eyelashes fluttering before opening hazily. She blinked a few times, before a slightly alarmed expression swept away her tiredness.

It happened every morning. Rachel would wake up in a stranger's bed, wondering what the hell had just happened? Had she died? How did she wind up here? Where on earth _was_ here? And why did her stomach feel like it was ripping apart? Then, in the midst of her silent uproar, Her icy, panicked stare would clash into a pair of golden eyes falling on her figure. And just like that, everything would make sense again. The terror simply melted away by the familiar warm smile the blonde above her was wearing.

Every morning this ritual would take place in silence; Rachel would feel frozen with fear until she realized Quinn standing over her, gazing down with slight curiosity, but most importantly warmth. And Rachel would fall back to earth, feeling reassured and safe, once again. Her eyes would lock onto Quinn's as security replaced the fright in her stiff and painful body. There was something Rachel couldn't quite explain when this happened. As the presence of Quinn calmed her, she would feel as though she were in a trance. In Quinn's eyes Rachel would well up with unexplainable emotion, in her eyes Rachel saw Christmas huddling by the fire, she saw naps in bed sheet fortresses, she saw stars from rooftops on hot summery nights… she saw the long lost feelings of joy, hope; forgotten so long ago.

"Good morning."

Rachel blinked.

"I made you breakfast, it's the same old thing again, sorry we don't have a more exquisite menu." Quinn spoke softly, sunshine in her voice.

Silence. The brunette below her continued to stare deeply at her, causing Quinn's eyebrows to rise high.

"Rachel?"

Rachel shook her head a couple times, plunging out of the trance she was in. She winced as she pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. Quinn raced around, placing a pillow behind the girl's back.

"It's okay Quinn, thank you." Rachel rested her head against the pillow as Quinn went back for the breakfast tray. Placing it by her, she settled herself on the bed, sitting cross-legged opposite the tray. After briefly staring at their pitiful meal, they began to pick at their food quietly.

"You were shaking really badly last night, worse than the night before."

"Really? Oh. I'm sorry, it must've been more nightmares."

"It's fine, I was just curious."

The small talk they exchanged was all they had. Quinn wasn't really sure how to get through to the mysterious Rachel. Although the apology she'd made three days ago had been sincere, both of them knew it had not been enough. A simple expression of regret would never be sufficient for Quinn's road to redemption. _Yes,_ she had saved Rachel's life, but even _that_ could be debated as an act of selfishness, as at the time, she was simply finding a reason to keep living herself.

"You going to tell me what you've been dreaming about? Or…" Quinn suggested, looking for anything to talk about.

Rachel munched on her sunflower seeds, averting eye contact. "Zombies mostly, that's all there is to think about these days. How they rip people in half, devouring them in seconds. It's still gruesome after all this time…" Rachel spoke quickly, before drifting off. "Also… the dark. I have nightmares about the dark."

"The dark?" Quinn teased, suppressing a laugh.

"I know, I know. It's childish and irrational to be afraid by now, but darkness just heightens the loneliness, and the silence. That's the worst. I've gone days without hearing a single sound except for my own breathing – it's like… being bolted into a coffin, it suffocates you." Rachel described, adding slight hand gestures.

Quinn somehow brightened at this statement, finally finding some common ground, even if it was about their worst times. "I know exactly what you mean. It's the most unbearable thing – the silence – It almost drove me insane… as you had the pleasure of watching before."

Both girls laughed, exchanging quick flashes of joy and humour before continuing on with their meal. They opened the bottle of juice – it was surprisingly adequate in taste. They prayed not to get poisoned while downing it, trying hard to savour the luxury of orange juice. After they'd finished, Quinn instructed Rachel to take some painkillers, despite not knowing anything about dosage or other important medical information.

Then they sat there in their usual silence, by now it had grown to be a friendly one, similar to the kind they'd shared back in senior year, except there were no longer any grudges or unsolved arguments hanging in the air. Rachel ran her fingers along the stitch lines over her shirt, chewing on her lip. She began humming a tune, probably from Broadway – Quinn had long since forgotten the name of whatever song it was, but it brought back memories of glee club.

Watching Rachel Berry perform solos and endless duets with Finn; sure it used to piss her off, but that too passed. After her boyfriend fiasco, Quinn threw off the rose-tinted glasses of high school 'love' and grew up. She began to notice Rachel, once the bane of her existence, and learned to admire her talent from a distance. It had taken some time to internally admit that Rachel was beautiful when she sang, but once Quinn had climbed that mountain, glee club turned into a haven for her; becoming the best part of Quinn's day. Even as the girl was humming now, sparks flew around the room, setting Quinn's heart on fire. Of course, she'd never let the girl know. These thoughts, these feelings she had bundled up inside were too much to be experiencing so soon, especially since they hadn't even begun to tap into the ice of their strange relationship. _This is what happens when you only know one other person alive in the entire world._ So Quinn brushed the emotions away, drifting away with Rachel's humming.

* * *

><p><em><strong>One week later<strong>_

"It's been almost two weeks! By this time my wounds _must_ have healed to a substantial degree! Any doctor would agree that I am healed!"

"That's ridiculous Rachel! I had to redo some of your stitches just two days ago! You're not leaving this basement until I can take them _all_ out!" Quinn trailed behind the shorter girl as she made her way to the basement stairs.

"_You're_ the one being ridiculous. How do you expect me to live down here, not having seen sunlight in weeks? I'm suffering from vitamin D deficiency! Who knows when I'll become depressed and commit _suicide!_" Rachel pleaded, slightly quickening her pace towards the stairs.

Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes. Despite the end of the world, Rachel had managed to fully preserve her overdramatic traits.

"No is _no_; your stitches will only break again. Now get back here!"

Rachel flicked her head around, hinting the beginnings of a smirk. Then in a flash, she swept out of the room, hair flying as she sped up the stairs.

"Rachel! Not again!" Quinn called out, racing after her. The girl was surprisingly fast; she was already in the kitchen giggling to herself by the time Quinn had caught up to her. "I'm warning you, it'll rip and you'll start bleeding all over the floor again!"

"Then you'll have to patch me up, won't you!" Rachel teased. "So… you better catch me before I hurt myself!" And then she was off. Again.

"Very funny Rachel! Let's see who's laughing when your intestines start falling onto the floor!"

They ran all over the house, participating in their wild Bantha chase around the ground floor of Quinn's derelict suburban home. Rachel squealed and giggled as she scurried around, holding her stomach tightly just to make sure her intestines wouldn't come spilling out. Quinn groaned and cursed in half-hearted frustration… though she had to admit it, this _was_ pretty fun.

It had been more than two weeks; by now the two of them had sort of bonded, and though they still maintained a semi-awkward silence half the time, they had found several things to talk openly about… excluding McKinley. Quinn still believed she owed more to Rachel to deserve her usually free of charge forgiveness. But now, things were really looking up. Maybe she'd finally be able to pay Rachel back.

At last Quinn managed to grab onto Rachel's arm, trailing after her for a moment before pulling her gently to a stop. They stood there bending over to catch their breath.

"For a veteran zombie killer I definitely thought you would've been much faster than _that_, Quinn," Rachel taunted.

"Shut up. I could easily kill you with my bare hands." She retorted, pushing her lightly in the shoulder.

Rachel smirked, muttering to herself. Then she looked up, taking in the light that seeped through the cracks of the barred windows, yearning to play outside with the sunshine. It was so grey and uninspiring in this room. She went over to the windowsill, running a hand down the cold wooden boards, before looking at Quinn.

"Oh no. No." Quinn stated firmly, folding her arms and feeling very old.

Rachel deepened her gaze, tilting her head so brown wisps could fall around her face.

"Oh don't give me puppy eyes." Quinn started. "We're not going outside, not until you're fully healed. How many more times do I have to say it?"

Rachel continued to gaze up at Quinn, her chocolate eyes pleading and begging with her. Quinn's stern face wavered ever so slightly, her own eyes locking onto Rachel's. Once again Quinn had been brought to her knees by a simple look of desperation. She narrowed her eyes; trying to faze Rachel out of the trance she was putting her through, but with no success. _This had better not be an act. _Andas if Rachel heard, she pouted her lips; eyes beginning to glisten just a little. _Oh, come on, you've got to be joking._

Quinn groaned.

"Stop! Stop – please – stop doing that. God, this is so pathetic… Okay okay! We'll go, we'll go!" Quinn broke, letting out a deep breath; eyes wide with exaggerated irritation. "But just for a little while!"

An extremely high-pitched squeal escaped from Rachel as she jumped high in the air, clapping her hands like a child at the build-a-bear factory. "Yes yes yes! Finally! Let's go let's go!"

She could not contain her excitement as she fiddled with the door bolts, struggling to figure out how to unlock each one. Quinn sighed at the sight of her. It was adorable, she acknowledged, seeing someone so happy from simply getting to go outside.

"Hold it right there, Strawberry Shortcake."

Rachel swivelled around, doubt suddenly wiping her face clean of the five-year-old girl she was embodying. _God, those big brown eyes._

"Um…" Quinn faltered for a second, before shaking her head clear. "We never leave the house without weapons."

"Oh. Yes, of course – a wise habit." Rachel agreed, telling herself to lower the excitement level raging inside.

In a couple minutes Quinn was all geared up with her regular guns and knives. Except this time she handed Rachel a gun, which the brunette shoved into the pocket of her shorts. Quinn scrutinized the weapon hanging out of her pocket with a doubtful expression.

"You _do_ know how to shoot right?"

There was a heated silence as Rachel glared at her, mouth hanging open in what appeared to be shock. "Just because I was almost mutilated in the middle of the street doesn't mean I'm capable of handling firearms! How did you expect I survived all this time?"

"Alright, alright! Keep your head screwed on; I was just checking!" Quinn backed off, trying hard to hide a smile as she imagined Rachel firing a gun. She really _had_ no idea how Rachel managed to survive all this time. "Now, do you want to see the outside world or not?" She asked cynically, gesturing towards the door.

Rachel pretty much burst through the wall.

As soon as Quinn had stepped onto the dusty porch, Rachel was already twirling about in the green. The overgrown grass shot up to her stomach, tickling her bare legs and dancing about with her. Quinn stood by and watched as Rachel soaked up the sunshine with the biggest smile on her face. Stepping down onto the lawn, the warmth of the Sun beat down on the girls, rejuvenating and radiant. There was not a cloud in the blue sky, and with the endless blue came a calm breeze that joined them as if on cue, rushing through the tall grass as Rachel floated around, running her hands through the wispy blades.

Quinn caught herself staring once more; the sight was glorious, like being born again. Rachel laughed as she ran through the forest of the lawn, causing a grin to form on Quinn's face. For once she decided not to suppress her emotions. _Why shouldn't I be allowed to feel happy again? I'm lucky to have Rachel here, why shouldn't I get to feel it?_ Quinn thought, as she let go and joined Rachel in the green. They spun around in circles together, giggling at the triviality of their happiness. Who cared, though. This was what they really needed – just a moment to prance senselessly around in the grass – it was all they needed to feel free from the chains of the gloom they endured everyday.

There really was nothing more magnificent than the sight of two girls shimmering together in the sunlight. Rachel beamed at Quinn again, locking on her hazel eyes once more. At the bright, glowing grin, Quinn's cheeks turned slightly pink. She returned the smile, gnawing briefly at her lip and wiping her hands on her jeans before joining Rachel's side.

"I suppose you want to take a walk?"

"Yes, yes! It's so beautiful out here, I feel as though I forgot what the world looked like!"

"Come on then, before the afternoon gets here."

* * *

><p>They strolled down the middle of a rundown street, Sun watching closely, high in the sky above them. Perspiration coated their skin, making them gleam in the summer heat. However, Rachel maintained a content face, curiously studying the crumbling houses – houses that Quinn stared at with experienced caution, knowing really what dangers dwelled within their walls.<p>

After a while they found themselves wandering down a familiar street, one Quinn had been to recently. _Ah yes,_ the zombie home base. Quinn found herself walking slightly faster, eyes twitching from sidewalk to sidewalk. Immediately she recognized the ever glamorous, white-picket-fence house that once belonged to Santana Lopez. At once a question invaded her mind.

"Rachel?"

The girl was also staring at it, with a slightly darker expression. The royal blue front door was slightly ajar from when Quinn had breached it, paint peeling away in all places, colour deteriorating slowly.

"Yes?"

"Did you ever happen to stay at this house when you first came back to Lima?"

Rachel squinted her eyes as the Sun hit them; she looked to the black road for a moment, formulating an answer.

"Yes, it was one of the few houses that remained standing in the area, so naturally I decided to seek shelter there."

Quinn waited for more but received nothing. There was definitely more to Rachel's story than she let out. It was no coincidence that the house was still up; the fortress stood there, stubborn and defiant, just like it's former occupant. It was also no coincidence that Rachel had found herself in Santana's basement! Surely the girl must have known this was Santana's residence. But why on earth had she wanted to stay at _Santana's_ house, of all places?

"Um, Rachel…" Quinn began, still cautiously eyeing every possible shrub and other hiding site in view. "You do know this is Santana's house, right?"

Rachel looked at her plainly, slowing to a stop in the middle of the road.

"Yes."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Well," Quinn gestured her hands outwards. "Why did you stay here?"

"Why not?"

"Because you hated Santana! And if I can remember, you were also pretty high up on her list of people she wanted to push into the swimming pool… or off the roof… anyway… don't you find it slightly odd that you were staying here?"

Rachel sighed. She'd been waiting for this question.

"Alright! Okay let me just tell you now." She caved. "When I first came back to Ohio, it was on a whim that I might run into somebody here. I was so desperate to see another human being that I was making ridiculously groundless decisions. So when I got here and found the whole town deserted, I decided that I would have to settle for visiting the places associated with everyone I knew. It was better than nothing. Do you see what I mean?"

Quinn nodded, completely absorbed by Rachel's explanation. She was finally opening up.

Rachel took a breath and continued on.

"So I decided to visit my house; I stayed for a while at Finn and Kurt's… actually spent most of my time there sobbing pathetically over lost dreams and hopes for the future with them… yes…"

As she described every second of her adventures in the homes of other friends, Quinn thought back to the 'Rachel + Finn' days. God, how they were unbearable – but not for the reason you would think. It had taken months to adjust to seeing a short, obnoxious drama queen at the side of the ceiling high football jock instead of herself. She would feel the little tuggings of irritation whenever the couple walked down the hall. Quinn convinced herself it was jealousy, even though she knew it definitely wasn't. It had taken only a day after they'd broken up to realize what an overbearing dork Finn really was. So if it wasn't jealousy, then what was it? Quinn didn't want to think about it… just in case - whatever _it_ was - was true. For a long time she spent her energy thinking about what the feeling could possibly be. She would watch them in glee club, seeing Rachel so happy, at the clumsy hands of Finn Hudson… it irked Quinn in a way she couldn't quite describe yet.

"… and yes, I know, I know it seems really strange to you, and I can assure you it felt terribly bizarre for me as well, but visiting Santana's house seemed like an obligatory process after making my way through everyone else's. It just wouldn't have been fair if I didn't at least _see_ her house. But when I got there… well, it was so beautifully intact, so I decided why not? Her basement was large and full of supplies so – Quinn… Quinn?" Rachel stopped, noticing that the blonde had drifted off somewhere into the clouds.

"Oh… um, sorry – yes, continue," Quinn stuttered, zoning back out of her thoughts and giving Rachel a reassuring smile.

Rachel smiled tightly in return before resuming.

"Yes, anyway, though Santana and I have had our… differences, I still felt as though I was leaving her out of the picture if I didn't visit. It wasn't a bad idea though. Turns out she even had an assortment of vegan provisions!" Rachel continued to go over every minute detail of her stay at the Lopez estate, causing Quinn to zone out again.

She thought back to the can of vegan linketts, and how the ground had fallen out below her feet as she uttered her first word after so long. _Rachel. _A grin played at the corners of her lips and she turned away slightly to conceal it; nope, she would never let the currently operating blabbermouth know of this little incident.

Then she thought of something that perplexed her.

"Wait, hold on. Did you visit my house too?" Quinn interrupted, a look of doubt already on her face.

Rachel fell silent. She looked to her left, shuffling her feet.

"No… I guess I didn't." She said bluntly.

Surprisingly Quinn felt hurt, but she didn't take it too heavily. Although Santana had consistently tortured Rachel at school, even _she_ was nothing compared to the wrath of Quinn. Why would Rachel even consider a visit to the house of her old enemy?

"Okay."

What else was there to say? They both already knew why Rachel never went, and Quinn really didn't need it to be rubbed in her face again. So she said nothing, praying that Rachel wouldn't gallop off into another one of her rigorous descriptions explaining every detail as to why.

Her prayers were somehow answered, since Rachel just stood there, processing her thoughts about Quinn. She tucked some long brown hair behind her ear, exposing a fresh look of dejection. Quinn racked her own brain for something to say to steer them away from the topic. Nothing. All she felt was the Sun beating on her back; in the distance she focused on the little heat waves rising above the tarmac. _Say something you idiot! _No one had ever really caused Quinn to fall silent quite like Rachel did. Though it annoyed her to the core, she knew it was good for her – Rachel was singlehandedly turning Quinn away from her HBIC customs, replacing them with humbleness and humility. At last she thought of something to say.

"Thank you."

Rachel raised her eyebrows, turning to face Quinn. "What?"

Quinn took a deep breath.

"Look, Rachel I… Somehow, I feel like a better person since you got here. Before I found you, I hadn't laughed or spoken a word for two years. Everything was grey and bland; every day that passed became less and less worth living in. But you – you have no idea what you've made me feel these past few weeks. Just being here by me – you made me see myself. And because of that I want to change. I want to be optimistic and free like you are, Rachel. Just your – your smile…" Quinn faltered, cheeks turning pink. "You make me want to run around in the grass like I'm insane, to not give a crap about anything. And I did! So, _thank you, _Rachel."

Quinn spoke with new vigour, as her thoughts and feelings tumbled out of her mouth into the open air. Another thing that had improved since Rachel's arrival was their diction. Together they learned how to speak again.

The beginnings of a smile formed on Rachel's lips. She looked up at Quinn, not afraid to hide her blush. The blonde was nervously chewing on her lip.

"Well I – you're… you're welcome."

Quinn relaxed a little, as if expecting a different answer. She fiddled with her hands, head falling to the floor as she continued.

"You, well – I really believe, that if it had been anyone else with me, I would have never turned away from the arrogant bitch I was from high school." Quinn lifted a hand to the back of her head, embarrassed from acknowledging her past again.

She tried to meet Rachel's eyes for reassurance, but the girl averted eye contact, mouth slowly widening.

"Um… Rachel?" Quinn tried. Still the brunette said nothing; looking as though she was staring straight past Quinn. "Are you there?" She said again, waving a hand in front of her motionless face.

It took several seconds before Rachel blinked. And blinked again.

"Rachel, what's going on with – "

"Qui – Quinn," She whispered hoarsely. The tone turned Quinn's blood to ice. "Behind you."

Within a second the blonde understood the situation. Rachel's hand fell to her pocket as Quinn whirled around on her foot, immediately registering two zombies coming out from behind a hedge not ten metres away. It was exceedingly unusual, considering the time of day, but right now she did not ask any questions. Both hands fell to her side.

Two roars projected from their disgusting mouths as the zombies leapt wildly towards the girls. Instinctively, Quinn reached behind and shifted Rachel behind her figure as she whipped out one of her pistols in record time; aiming for the faster undead. Neither of the girls made a sound, though their eyes were in fact wide with alarm. Quinn could feel Rachel pushing her hand away, but she managed to keep a firm grip on her wrist. The blonde was just about to pull on the trigger when one of the undead stopped dead in its tracks, releasing an ear-piercing shriek as it smacked the floor on its knees, and then fell face first into the tarmac. The other zombie quickly followed suit.

Quinn lowered her gun, confounded. _What the fuck!_

She snapped her head to the right, only to see Rachel, with her gun raised high in the air in front of her; trepidation plastered onto her flustered face. _Oh._

Quinn frowned. Had she been so absorbed in her own actions that she did not even hear Rachel's gunshots? More importantly, Quinn stared at the girl, eyes wide in amazement, completely taken aback by the fact that Rachel had shot down two zombies only metres away from them. She realized that she was still hanging onto Rachel's wrist for dear life; knuckles white with her vice grip. Quinn forced herself to release the wrist, unsure if she was worrying too much for Rachel's safety or simply acting in childish cowardice. Hopefully Rachel didn't notice either way.

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered, barely audible at all. "Oh my God."

It took Quinn a moment to calm down herself. Her pulse pounded in her ears as the adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. When she finally regained her composure, she noticed Rachel was still standing there like a statue; arm raised up high.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Quinn soothed, going to face Rachel. "You got them. You actually shot them! And so quickly too! I have to admit, I am surprised. I never should have underestimated you – you're a great shooter." Quinn spoke warmly.

She gently lowered Rachel's raised arm; gun dropping to the ground. Placing her hands on Rachel's shoulders – still stiff with shock – Quinn squeezed lightly, ducking her head to try and find Rachel's eyes, which still penetrated straight through her.

"Hey, it's alright now… C'mon, we should get going, it's really strange that they've come out during the day. Rachel?"

Slowly, Quinn began rubbing her hands up and down the girl's arms, and little by little Rachel came back to life, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed. Opening them after a moment, she looked up at warm hazel eyes, once again seeing those indescribable feelings she saw every morning. Rachel felt security in the hands running up and down her arms, bringing her back to earth.

"You okay now?"

Rachel was still a little dazed, but more so from Quinn now than from anything else.

"Yeah, yeah I'm alright. Thank you."

With one more smile, Quinn released Rachel and turned to face the dead carcasses below them. _Could they get any whiter? _They were hideous, dried blood and grime all over them. But Quinn studied them closely, noticing how hefty and burly these were. Totally unlike the ones she was used to seeing – usually you could see the outlines of their ribcages – that was how skinny they were supposed to be. But these… these seemed much more… _healthy, _if that was even an appropriate description. She noticed the bullet holes and scars scattered over their ghost-white bodies – they were seasoned; maybe part of the very first infected batch. Who knows how many humans they'd ravaged. Quinn noticed the newest bullet holes both right in the foreheads of the monsters. _Damn, this girl can seriously shoot! _

She glanced quickly at Rachel; also staring at her handiwork with an evident level of astonishment. Then Quinn looked up, scanning every house suspiciously.

"I – I don't understand." Rachel stated. "I've never seen this kind of assault before – they never come out during the day! And why only these two?"

"I don't know either – they're supposed to be sensitive to ultraviolet rays. And notice their bodies, they're completely covered in scars and holes – a lot older than most infected, judging by their size. But in any case, we can't stay here. I forgot to mention that this is where most of the undead congregate. So we should leave now." Quinn explained, authority in her voice.

Rachel nodded as they turned away. She picked up her gun, and together they walked off at an anxious pace, far away from Santana's street, both pondering how and why they were suddenly attacked in such a way.

* * *

><p><strong>Long chapter, I hope it was satisfactory for you all. About this update issue, I have no idea when I'll be updating next. It could take a couple weeks, or tomorrow, or a few days – I have no idea. But you guys can always PM me if you want to know how progress is going.<strong>

**In the meantime, please review! Many of you have suggested some awesome little quirks to use, and I've tried to implement a few of them already. I jot the rest down to try and use later. Please suggest more! ****Also, hopefully next week there will be a great Glee episode! And if you've read the spoilers, then you'll probably know what I'm looking forward to most.**

**Finally, I can assure that the next chapter will include a couple more voices ;)**


	10. Lima Heights

**I know it's been ages since I last updated, but I've been seriously busy! My exam period is rapidly approaching and I'm drowning. Anyways, enjoy.**

* * *

><p>They lay head to head in the middle of the dimly lit basement, surrounded by piles of trash and whatever debris Quinn had accumulated from all her lonesome adventures during these past years. Golden wisps of hair sprawled out, tangling with brown curls that poured onto the dusty beige carpet that had not been cared for in forever. But judging from the hysterical looks on the girls' faces, neither of them seemed to notice. In Quinn's hand sat a large bottle of Smirnoff vodka. She twirled the glass bottle in her hand as she giggled along mindlessly to whatever Rachel was blabbering about. The transparent liquid whirled around about half full, and every few minutes both girls would fall silent only to heave the half empty Smirnoff to their lips to take a swig. Then they would collapse beside one another; ready for another around of Rachel's sluggish gibberish.<p>

"This was a brillyant idea, heh. Why didn't we think to do dish before? This is Brill- brit… brilliant. AK!" Rachel slurred.

Quinn giggled and tossed and turned on the floor, eyes rolling all over the place as she fell into another wave of intoxication.

"_This_. Rachel Berry. _This_ is why I never considered doing this. Look at you! Who knew one could have such low tolerance?" Quinn lifted a hand above their heads, clumsily pointing down at Rachel's lolling head to emphasize her reason.

"You can bame... blam... you can _blame_ my height... for that." Rachel remarked, following Quinn's finger point with her eyes as though she was being hypnotized.

Quinn unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh before propping herself up on one arm, bringing half of Rachel's long hair up with her own. She looked down on the brunette, eyes half out of their sockets as they glared up at the ceiling. The girl was fiddling with her stitch lines, smiling giddily to herself. Quinn merely rolled her eyes, though it sent a pang of pain to her head.

"How many times have I told you not to touch? You'll start bleeding… _again_." Quinn snapped at her playfully, brushing Rachel's hands away from her stomach. "No more alcohol for you. You look like shit." Quinn stated, moving the bottle away from even herself, weary of temptation.

Rachel was quick to register. She seemed to turn slightly epileptic as she jolted upright, smacking her face into Quinn's jaw.

"Ow! What the hell!" Quinn exclaimed, grabbing her chin. The force of Rachel's head caused her to bite her own lip, and immediately the metallic taste of blood began to fill the blonde's mouth. Rachel, however, did not seem to hear, as Quinn watched her crawl pathetically towards the vodka.

"Get back here you little… crap face!" Quinn blurted out. She was well aware that her HBIC name-calling attitude dissolved completely while she was verging on indisposed. "No more vodka! I knew going to dad's stash was a stupid idea… Don't even know how you found it anyway. Rachel! Stop moving!"

She lunged forward, flopping onto Rachel's back, and wrapped her arms around Rachel's fragile torso. Rachel continued to be silent, apart from the little grunts she made as she hauled herself towards the precious drink. It took about ten seconds of dragging and hanging on for Quinn to realize. _The stitches._

"Oh shit!" Quinn released her hold immediately and slumped to the floor, dizzy and buzzing. She licked the blood off her lips, and grabbed Rachel's foot.

"Let go of me! I need, I need… need this… Quinn! Let me..l-let…" Rachel slugged on, within centimetres of the bottle, before the alcohol caused her to collapse in utter exhaustion.

Again they lay there, quietly giggling at each other and at themselves, Quinn with a vice grip on Rachel's ankle. She lay face flat on the floor, sucking in all the dust from the carpet and swallowing as much blood in her mouth as she could. _We are never doing this again._

"Let's play a game." Rachel spoke, piercing the silence.

_Oh God no._

"Truth or dare?" Rachel continued, cheek pressed to the floor as she drew spirals in the ancient carpet.

_Let me die._

Quinn knew truth or dare meant talking about the one thing she hated thinking about. School. School and all its horrible glory.

"Quinn? You listening?" Rachel asked, voice increasing by a couple pitches.

Quinn froze, hoping to sweet Jesus that Rachel would think she'd passed out or something. But that would only mean Rachel would help herself to the rest of the bottle. The blonde processed her options, eyes darting everywhere as she conjured up the best approach, only to be met with a foot in her face.

"Ow! Rachel! Quit kicking me in the face!" Quinn yelled, slapping the foot away.

Rachel simply giggled and continued stretching her legs out at Quinn, obviously satisfied with annoying the girl. Quinn yanked herself away from the crazy little drunk, trying as hard as possible to sit upright.

"I swear you're going to kill me someday." Quinn commented, holding her fingers to her red lips.

"Sorry," Rachel said a little too joyfully. She even added a small pout. "So. Truth or dare? Pick!"

Quinn sighed. Rachel sat up.

"C'mon Quinn! Pick one! Pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick-"

"Alright, oh my God! Shut up!" Quinn shouted over Rachel's incessancy, leaning forward to put a hand over Rachel's massive mouth. Though it landed more on Rachel's entire face, rather than her mouth, and Quinn's weight pushed her forward onto the smaller girl. They toppled over again, this time directly on top of each other, before they exploded into another round of giggles. Rachel laughed silently, choosing to ignore the pain arising from her stomach. She invited the weight of Quinn - it felt strangely comforting, and she rested her hands on the blonde's back as she settled down, tears of laughter leaking out of her eyes.

"Alright. I pick… truth. Let's get this over with." Quinn mumbled.

"Yes!" Rachel clapped her hands together in sheer excitement, and her legs bounced up and down, shaking Quinn's body over her. "Okay, okay. Hmm. Truth… Wait!" Rachel shouted as she hit an epiphany.

"Ow! Ears! Quiet down!"

"Jeez, sorry." Rachel glared at Quinn. She looked up to the ceiling, drumming her fingers on Quinn's back to aid her thought process. Quinn slowly began to drift off with it, taking with her the simply joy of physical human connection.

"Okay, I got one."

_Here it comes. Kill me now._

"Out of the three boys you dated, which one was… you know… the best?" Rachel asked, with a much more serious tone than before.

_How original._

Flashes of truth or dare with Brittany and Santana in this very basement wafted back to Quinn for a moment as she thought of an answer. Somehow, dare after dare from Brittany had led to a full on make out session between her two best friends, leaving Quinn very red and very left out. _If they were here now, seeing what a mess I've turned into…_

"Quinn? I'm waiting…"

"Huh? Oh. Um, yes. Okay. I suppose I would have to say… Sam." Quinn randomly picked a guy, she really didn't know. Or care.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Why him?"

"I don't know!" Quinn groaned. She noticed that Rachel was quiet, waiting for a proper answer. "I guess he was kind, not a douchebag like Puck or a dweeb like your boyfriend…"

Rachel giggled. And then straightaway her face scrunched up.

"Wait what... My boyfriend was not a dweeb!"

"Next question!"

The brunette huffed, thinking of her next assault on Quinn's past. She closed her eyes as she drummed on Quinn's back, preparing her question like a drumming ritual.

"Did you love him?"

"Who?"

"Sam."

Quinn thought for a moment. Sam was the good old American blonde boy. He was cute. He was dorky. He was the perfect boyfriend. But Quinn never loved him.

"No."

"Why?"

They turned their heads to face each other, though their gazes were cloudy due to the alcohol.

"Well, I don't know really. Can't really explain it. I guess… I guess there was just something missing. I don't know. I didn't deserve him anyway."

Rachel didn't respond. She simply looked back up to the ceiling and continued drumming. Quinn continued staring at the girl, vision slightly blurry. Without thinking she reached over and took hold of a lock of Rachel's hair, curling it around her fingers. The feeling was still so foreign – being able to touch another living being. And now that it was right in front of her, she would never let go. Quinn felt Rachel's heart beating steadily below her and silently, she revelled in the connection.

"Quinn?"

The blonde twitched out of her haze, and noticed that Rachel was staring straight at her. Quinn released Rachel's hair and looked away, flushed.

"Quinn it's your turn to ask."

"Oh," she mumbled, relieved. She thought for a moment, then smiled to herself as she riled up a nasty question. 'I've got a good one. What the hell did you see in Finn Hudson?"

Rachel scoffed. "I'll have you know that Finn was – _is_ – probably the kindest, loyal and caring boyfriend anyone could ever ask for! He truly loved me for me, and not just my talent, which I'm definitely sure he loved too."

"Hah! Finn was a dweeb! A dim-witted, clumsy football player."

"But-"

"Oh and also he lied to you. About Santana. And football. And _so_ many other things."

"No-"

"He lost it to _Santana_, of all people. Oh and also he was a terrible dancer."

Rachel's flustered face was bursting at the seams. "You went out with him _twice!_"

"Yes and for that I continue to question my sanity everyday." Quinn remarked, cringing at the thought.

And with that, she hauled herself off the tiny girl, fighting the dizziness.

"Oh God, my head. We are not doing this again. We can't expect to survive by getting smashed in the middle of zombieland." Quinn stated, very matter-of-factly.

"Not with _that_ attitude." Rachel muttered under her breath as she attempted to stand.

Quinn shoved her back onto the floor, before scooping up the Smirnoff and taking it to the other side of the basement, far, far away.

"My _attitude_ is what keeps us alive." She called over her shoulder, satisfied with her comeback.

And suddenly, the whole room went black.

* * *

><p>It was completely dark. There wasn't a speck of light to be seen anywhere, and Quinn found herself walking into a table.<p>

_Black out._

Quinn seemed to sober up almost immediately. She cursed – how could she had been so stupid, forgetting to check the generators! She'd been too wound up in chasing after Rachel that her own fortress was falling apart. How the hell was she going to get out of this one?

"Rachel! Rach, it's alright, there's just been a black out. Damn generators must have failed. Where are you?"

Slowly she began to work her way back to where her instincts told her the girl would be, wherever that was. Quinn put her hands in front of her, feeling around for whatever she could recognize.

"Rachel? Can you talk… or something? That would be much appreciated."

There was silence. A pin drop could be heard.

From the nothingness Quinn made out the tiniest of whimpers coming from the other side of the room. _Shit. _Quinn had forgotten – Rachel was terrified of the dark. Instantly she picked up the pace, frantically groping the air and shuffling forward towards the sound.

"Rachel! I'm coming! It's okay! Just hang on and stay still so – ow _fuck!_" Quinn crashed into several boxes of tools, knocking them over and spilling them all onto the floor, as they made thunderous clanks and screeches against each other.

The sound only heightened the brunette's whimpering. Quinn could tell the girl was crying.

"Oh shit – that was just me! And a bunch of crap! Hold on, God fucking damn it!" Quinn tossed a box out of the way and practically sprinted to the sound of Rachel's snivels with her arms tossed out in front, grabbing at the air.

More tables were turned, silverware and papers and other random items fell onto the floor. After climbing over a couch Quinn could virtually feel Rachel's presence. She reached out a hand to confirm that what she was grabbing wasn't going to be a lamp, and sure enough, it wasn't. An ear-piercing yowl escaped from Rachel's lips as a hand grabbed her by the face.

"Oh God! Rachel! Rachel it's just me!" Quinn pulled Rachel towards her, yanking her by the shoulders again. "Rachel stop screaming! They'll hear you! Rachel! It's me!"

Quinn tried to cover her mouth, her hand getting bit on in the process. "Crap fuck shit!" Quinn cursed, pulling her hand back. "God damn it Rachel! Please, please stop screaming. It's me. You're safe. You're okay. Please."

Gradually Rachel stopped quivering, her shrieks falling in volume. Quinn wiped her now wet hand on her shirt and placed it on Rachel's arm again.

The girl sounded as though she was hyperventilating, still shuddering and quaking in Quinn's grasp. Quinn retaliated by shaking her. "It's okay. You're safe. I've got you, alright? Everything's going to be okay."

Once again Quinn began running her hands down the girl's arms just like before, soothing Rachel's spasms away. Ever so slowly her breathing relaxed.

"That's it. Just take deep breaths. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe here with me." Quinn pulled her into a hug – it seemed to be working. Rachel wrapped her arms tight around the blonde's neck, hanging on as though it was the end of the world. Quinn could feel her heart still pounding out of her chest, and she responded by rubbing Rachel's back to lower her pulse rate.

They stood there for an insane amount of time, with Rachel muttering 'I'm okay' into Quinn's neck over and over again. Quinn had to admit, despite this little freak out, she felt amazing – having Rachel Berry pressed up against her. After no contact with a human in years, suddenly she had Rachel – of all people – holding on to her for dear life. This was probably the only miracle Quinn had been given in a really long time.

"Hey," Quinn murmured, "why don't we sit down. I think you'll feel better off your feet."

Rachel stopped her muttering. Quinn could feel her still wet cheeks on her own neck.

"Don't let go." Rachel whispered, almost desperately.

"I won't," Quinn took Rachel's wrists, and began lowering themselves onto the carpet. She held the wall next to her for guidance, and eventually Quinn was sat with her back to the wall, still clasping Rachel hands tightly. The next thing she knew, Rachel had folded herself into Quinn, leaning back into her. She rested her head on the blonde's shoulder as Quinn almost instinctively wrapped her arms around Rachel's stomach, this time careful not to squeeze too hard. Maybe it was the alcohol that caused Rachel's sudden need for physical connection, maybe it was just her fear, but whatever it was, Quinn didn't question it.

"My head is still buzzing." Rachel stated softly, wiping at her wet cheeks. "Sorry about this. I know it's a stupid fear, but I can't help it."

"Don't be sorry. Everyone's got their stupid fears," Quinn reassured. She inhaled the scent of Rachel, closing her eyes and falling into the silence.

That was when the first scream of the night decided to arrive.

Both girls jumped slightly out of their skin. Quinn's eyes had barely been closed for a second before they burst open, and she fastened more tightly onto Rachel's body as the girl stiffened.

_Perfect._

"It's okay." Quinn whispered.

From the screams, Quinn guessed it was around five or six-ish. _Well this is convenient. _The screams picked up after a moment, and soon the girls were surrounded by the Dolby digital surround sound zombie experience. How on earth was she going to fix the generators tonight? They'd have to wait for tomorrow. In the meantime, how would they survive down here? Quinn usually maintained her fortress of a house – black outs were not things she'd experienced yet, especially not with a scared shitless Rachel Berry. _I guess finding a flashlight would be a nice place to start._

Quinn was about to ask if she could leave Rachel to go find one, when she realized her legs were throbbing in pain. It took a couple seconds to realize Rachel was clutching her thighs tight, fingernails digging in deep. Quinn held in a wince, slowly encasing Rachel's hands in her own.

"I've got you, Rachel. Nothing's going to happen to us here."

Rachel's stiff body relaxed ever so slightly, falling back into Quinn's.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Brittany sat crouched over the gas canister, staring at the sizzling yoke of her eggs on the frying pan. How she managed to find them, nobody knew. She looked around the grass eagerly, salivating at the same time. It had been too long since she'd eaten something this… fresh. <em>Ah, there. <em>The girl scooped up a fine looking stick and began prodding at her eggs, not caring about the grime it was covered it. I mean, come on, it had been years since she'd eaten _eggs. _Brittany expertly flipped one over, just how Santana liked it. The other, she left sunny side up for herself.

From out of the bushes a dark haired girl emerged, carrying with her a finished toilet roll.

"Britt, we're out of toilet paper. Do we have anymore around somewhere?"

Santana ran a hand through her messy raven hair, walking to the trunk of their car. Brittany; wholly focused on her gorgeous eggs, licked her lips in hunger.

"Brittany!"

The blonde tore her eyes from the pan and looked up at Santana, who was wearing a tank that hugged her toned abdomen, and denim shorts that hung low over her bright red boxers. God, she was beautiful – even after she probably just took a crap.

"Brittany?"

Brittany looked around herself frantically, as if some toilet roll would magically appear by her side. Her eyes landed on a nice, smooth looking leaf instead. She reached over and lifted it up for Santana to examine.

"I fucking hate living in the woods!"

Santana snatched the leaf that Brittany was dangling in the air, bent over to grab several more, and stomped back towards the bushes, grumbling to herself. Brittany smiled, returning to her eggs. When Santana re-emerged – still with a scowl on her face – Brittany was sat on the hood of their car, picking at the eggs she'd plopped onto some cardboard.

The smell was almost invigorating, and Santana was naturally drawn to the eggs, one hand on her empty stomach. How long had it been since they'd actually eaten? Santana looked down at the perfectly cooked eggs, a little perplexed. She gazed at Brittany, one eyebrow raised as the girl vacuumed in the golden yoke with her mouth.

"Brittany… Where did you get these?" Santana asked, taking a fork and picking at them.

"A duck nest!" Brittany exclaimed; obviously very proud of herself.

"A duck nest."

"Yes a duck nest – by the lake in the rushes. Don't they taste amazing? Just like chicken."

Santana stood by the car, chewing on them with interest. They did indeed, taste very much like chicken.

After they'd downed their eggs, and whatever food they'd scavenged from the car, they packed up quickly and efficiently, leaving no trace, just like they'd done so for the past few weeks. Santana was very aware of how low they were running on supplies. Yet hopefully, they'd get there today. If only they'd encountered fewer zombie ambushes, the journey would've been a breeze. But that was not the case for the girls. Santana spent a couple minutes reapplying a bandage to a nasty cut on Brittany's arm, before heading to the car.

"San, d'you think this is going to work?" Brittany asked as she hopped into the passenger seat, a lolly hanging out of her mouth.

Santana glared at her with a furrowed brow. "Brittany where did you get _that!"_

"Get what?" Brittany replied, genuinely concerned. She looked about herself, was there was a spider stuck to her shirt?

"The lollipop!"

"Oh that! Oh it was under the carpet in the backseat! Funny how we have so much stuff…"

Santana yanked it out of her mouth with a pop from Brittany's mouth, and threw it out the window of the driver's seat.

"Oh God it's brown! Oh God, Brittany that's just disgusting! I don't want you to die from a lollipop! You could get like – _AIDS_ or something." Santana huffed, starting the engines of their blood red Ferrari – the greatest thing Brittany had ever stolen, if you didn't count Santana's heart. The day Brittany carjacked this baby was one of the greatest days of Santana's life – she had never been so proud before.

"You need to get that shit out of your mouth. Where's the water." She looked around her, while Brittany sat there staring quizzically at Santana as she simultaneously backed out of the forest clearing and searched around the car.

"San, I'm fine."

Santana reached over Brittany's legs and opened the glove box, taking out a flask of some unknown liquor. She glanced at it suspiciously for a second.

"Fuck it. Here, Britt – rinse your mouth this… And spit it out when you're done." She dropped it onto Brittany's lap and returned both hands to the wheel.

Reluctantly, the blonde took a swig. It was vile, stinging her throat like acid, and almost as soon as she drank, it was flying out the car window. She made sure not to get it on the car itself, at least. Then she slumped into her seat, folding her arms in frustration. Within seconds they were travelling at one hundred and twenty kilometres an hour, speeding past empty brown farms and dusty old ghost towns.

After a moment's silence Brittany spoke again. "So, is this plan going to work out?"

"I don't know. But this has to be better than Miami. Zeds down there were fucking insane." Santana answered, shuddering slightly at their Miami experience.

They'd first gone down there because Brittany wanted to see dolphins, so naturally Santana – being the whipped cream she was – had to agree. Everything was fine at first, they'd even met some other survivors, and together they held a supply station fort sort of thing. That was until the zombie ambushes became too intense and too hard to handle for even Santana – who was probably the best zombie slayer the group had. The zombies were attacking in the day – even with the Florida heat. No one understood why, but in the end, the numbers of zombies in the area had increased to the point where they practically lived next door to where the fort was. Santana thought back to the day they left, the two of them had gone out searching for gas in the morning. When they arrived back, they found the entire block on fire. The other survivors had either been killed or converted, and they had become the only two humans left in Miami. The girls barely made it out of the state alive.

"You think they won't be as bad in Ohio? 'Cause you know we've been ambushed so many times…" Brittany mentioned, doodling on her bandage with a pen she'd found somewhere.

"I have no idea, Britt-Britt. All we can do is keep moving. And who knows, we might actually find some skinny pathetic zeds to slaughter in Columbus, for once."

"D'you think we should go back to Lima?" Brittany asked, face lighting up.

Santana grimaced. The thought of Lima caused her to think of everyone she knew. Her family and friends, she'd never know if they managed to escape, or whether they were dead or undead like everyone else. Going back there would probably only confirm the truth, and even after all this time it was something Santana was not ready to face yet. But she kept that to herself, not wanting to remind Brittany of what happened all those years ago.

"Maybe."

* * *

><p>Rachel was dragged out of her sleep in cold sweat, awaking to the still wailing zombies running around above ground. She'd had another nightmare. They never seemed to stop coming. At first the girl was completely alarmed. Why was there no light? It was completely black; she could only feel the damp sheets that had been creased by her shaking… how did she wind up in a bed anyway? And <em>Jesus<em> her head! It was throbbing – badly, like someone was hammering at it over and over again. Rachel brought a sweaty hand to her forehead, wiping her brow. She squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again to be met with the same eerie darkness.

Then she heard the sound of deep breathing from her right. _Quinn_. Rachel quickly realized Quinn was lying only inches away from her; their legs tangled together with the sheets. She immediately felt her cheeks heat up; she couldn't believe it, but Rachel must've fallen asleep in Quinn's arms. What the hell happened last night? It took a moment for everything to come back to her. The Smirnoff, truth or dare, the blackout, her nervous breakdown… and now they were lying here together – Quinn even had a hand grasping her own.

Rachel lay wide awake for a while, absorbing the shrieks of the zombies above and basking in the comfort of Quinn at the same time. She'd never had a friend like Quinn, not even Kurt or Mercedes were ever this close to her. None of her friends had ever really made her feel this cherished. Something about the way Quinn fiercely guarded her, or constantly worried for her safety… _sure_ it was annoying and overprotective, but it just… it made her feel cherished, loved even.

Rachel turned her head to look at where she believed Quinn's head was. Her head pounded from the after effects of the vodka; she promised she would never drink again. Yet Rachel felt her condition deteriorate. The sweat was getting thicker; she could smell it all over her. There was a lump forming in her throat, and suddenly she felt nauseous. The brunette lifted her head off her soaking pillow and instantly the world began to swirl. Jolting upright then and there, she knew what she needed - what Rachel Berry needed right this moment was an empty toilet bowl. And she needed it now.

Carefully but rapidly she untangled herself from Quinn, trying not to stir her sleep. Then she leapt off the bed and dashed forward, instincts guiding her towards the bathroom. All the while her stomach was erupting, her head was throbbing, her chest was pounding, and everything was on fire as she tore the basement apart, searching for the toilet. In her haste she ran straight into a shelf of some sort, obviously a metallic one because there was a massive clang caused a cry to rip through the air. _Well done Rachel,_ _Quinn will definitely wake up now._ Rachel gripped her throat; she desperately needed to find the bathroom. By the time she reached the door she could feel her insides churning – horrible retching sounds erupted from her mouth and she fell onto the toilet, releasing piles of acid and liquid in one heave.

At least she aimed correctly. That was possibly the only upside to this. As soon as she vomited her first round of puke, not only could she feel her throat burning from the acid, but she felt as if her stomach was being stabbed a hundred times over. Rachel gripped her torso, buckets of sweat seeping from herself. She continued to retch into the toilet bowl, hair falling over her face as she did so. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a white beam of light; her eyes pricked and squinted from the first sign of light in hours.

Quinn had found the flashlight, at last. Her own head was cloudy from the vodka as she shuffled towards the bathroom.

"Rachel are you okay?" She called towards her.

"Yes I'm totally fine!" Rachel replied sarcastically just as another waterfall of vomit poured out of her mouth.

Quinn shone the flashlight at Rachel as she emptied her stomach, and her jaw immediately fell to the floor. Rachel's shirt was completely soaked in dark red, with puddles of blood pooling by her knees. It almost looked as if she had just turned into one of the infected. _Those damn stitches._

* * *

><p>"Who would've thought that after weeks of physical fighting and chasing you around, it was your own barfing that led to your <em>literal<em> undoing?" Quinn asked smugly as she helped Rachel lie on her 'surgery table.'

Quinn had repaired Rachel's body so many times now that the table had been given a new name. She even had a tray of surgical tools sitting next to the table, ready for Rachel's next operation.

"Oh haha, yes. It's all _my_ fault _your_ stitches keep falling apart. Do I need to remind you that it was _you_ who initiated all our little fights and scrambles?" Rachel asked as she swallowed some painkillers.

Quinn gave Rachel a cynical look.

"You're going to have to take off your shirt."

Rachel hesitated. Quinn sensed the uneasiness in the air, suddenly regretting being so forward with her.

"But… I'm naked under this shirt…"

"Oh, you don't say?" Quinn asked sardonically, hoping to provide some humour to their situation, and also immediately regretting that decision. _Shut up Quinn!_

Rachel was silent, still clearly in a state of reluctance. She avoided eye contact, looking to where the light of Quinn's torch didn't reach.

Quinn was becoming more frantic. "Is you being naked the biggest of your concerns right now? You're spilling blood all over the table, and the floor." _God now she probably thinks I want to see her naked… which would be an interesting experience… oh my God, no. C'mon Quinn._

Rachel looked at herself, then at the carpet. Sure enough, blood was leaking everywhere, not to mention the pain she was currently enduring. Quinn was tapping on the bottle of painkillers on the tray, as if tempting her with more drugs. Rachel admitted to herself that she was being preposterous. Yes, she was possibly in a life or death situation right now, but being half naked while Quinn worked on your body wasn't a particularly comfortable and relaxing experience that one would want to think about – and just why exactly, Rachel still hadn't figured out.

Quinn was ready to try convincing her one more time before she told herself she would have to use force – and that was clearly something Quinn very much wanted to avoid. Not to mention how Rachel would think of her afterwards. _Could I have been charged for sexual harassment… or molestation? _

"Rachel, you're being ridiculous. Who's gonna see? _Finn Hudson? _Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell him I didn't try anything on you." Quinn scoffed.

"Shut up!" Rachel retorted loudly.

"If you want I can try and call his cell, but… you know… he might be a bit busy walking into ceilings… or _devouring_ _someone's brain!_"

"That's hilarious. You're hilarious. You should've been a comedienne."

"I'm here all day." Quinn remarked.

Rachel groaned a very exaggerated groan, before lifting the hem of her shirt. Or rather _Quinn's_ shirt.

"Fine. Let's do this."

_Success._

Quinn bit her lip, trying to contain her satisfaction with herself. It would have been extremely embarrassing had the lights been on. _Thank God she can't see my face._

"Um… Quinn. I can't – I can't lift my arms…" Rachel mumbled. "Quinn?"

"… Oh! Right! Yes okay. No worries."

Quinn wiped the smug smile off her face and quickly pulled the completely red shirt off Rachel before the girl lay back down. Holding the flashlight with her teeth, she began undoing the stitches, almost in a professional manner.

Meanwhile, Rachel lay there, fully exposed, trying as hard as she could to prevent her cheeks from changing colour. She thought of the most horrible things to keep distracted: paper cuts, fingernails running along blackboards, getting slushied by everyone on the football team, etcetera, etcetera. It didn't really work.

Even in the darkness Rachel could feel Quinn's hazel eyes scraping her naked body; it was so overwhelming that even the pain of stitches being yanked from her torso was ignored. The touch of Quinn's fingers on her was cool against her warm, insecure self. She could feel her own heat rising, filling the room with a steamy atmosphere.

Quinn made a valiant attempt not to peek. She glimpsed at Rachel's expression, which was also trying to look as neutral and nonchalant as possible. Though Quinn knew Rachel could not see her own face, she could not bring herself to look at her dark brown eyes – that was something she considered too intimate, and made her feel as though she were invading or exploiting the girl. However, it was impossible to avoid staring at Rachel's breasts, after all, the lesions were practically right below them anyway. How could she _not_ look? _Wow I would be one really distracted doctor. _Quinn took extra care not to work too near them, but once in a while her hand would graze along their _delicate_ curves, and both girls would hold their breath, waiting to see if Quinn would apologize or if Rachel would start complaining. But neither of them dared say a word, afraid of putting one another off. After an eternity Quinn finally broke the immensely uncomfortable silence, as she cleared her throat to swallow all the saliva that had been building up_._

"Right. I'm gonna put in the new stitches now, so hold on."

Rachel nodded, gripping onto the edges of the table, as though she were preparing for something else entirely. When the needle penetrated her skin she let out a small squeal, just before the stinging set in.

"Sorry I don't have any morphine or anything."

Rachel increased her grip on the table edges.

"It's… fine… we've done this… several times… now," she seethed, a new wave of perspiration appearing on her skin. The sweat gleamed in the white light and Quinn found her fingers covered with both blood and sweat as she applied the new stitches.

For the next half hour Quinn worked while they listened to the screams of the zombies, which were gradually dying down. Soon it was quiet enough to hear each other's breathing rhythms, so they began to listen to them instead, for a nice change. Rachel's breathing was light and rapid, almost like a panting dog. With every hitch or wheeze Quinn felt increasingly worse, like she was causing Rachel's suffering on purpose. She really hated doing this.

Meanwhile, Rachel listened to Quinn. She closed her eyes, enhancing the sound of her, though the stab of the needle was also enhanced. It didn't matter. She could hear Quinn subtly clearing her throat; she could even make out when the blonde licked her lips, or when she ran her tongue across her teeth. The whole library of sounds just emanated pure concentration and focus. Listening to it developed Rachel's admiration for her, not to mention the security she felt in Quinn's capable hands.

"Okay. It's finished. And I have to say, I think it's the best I've ever done – probably because you're almost healed anyway. But still, don't mess this up again!" Quinn demanded authoritatively. "Just have to clean you up now… and add some lotion…"

When Rachel said nothing, Quinn took a towel and began wiping Rachel off. She swabbed off the blood that was beginning to dry, as well as the sweat caused from Rachel's pain. She took extra care around the stitch lines, trying hard not to press too hard on them. Rachel then heard the sound of a bottle opening, and then a cold gel was applied to her ribs, causing her to quiver slightly.

Quinn was as gentle as ever, rubbing the lightest circles over the stitches. Once again Rachel felt Quinn's eyes on her body, but this time she softened, welcoming the touch completely. _Would it be weird to say that this feels nice? _Rachel closed her eyes again, hoping this would last forever.

It didn't last twenty seconds.

Before long, the screams had subsided.

"Well, guess that means it must be daytime. You can finally get some sleep now, while I go and check the generators. You're finished!"

Rachel dreaded hearing those two words, all she wanted now was to continue lying there while Quinn basically massaged her. But of course, she would never let Quinn know that; it was ridiculous.

Quinn helped Rachel to her feet, and with an arm around Quinn's shoulder, they made their way to the bed. The blonde handed her another one of her own shirts before heading to the kitchen. She returned with a basin and a glass of water.

"You used to say your dads would bring you water to help you cheer up. So here, hope this makes you feel a little better. Oh, and the basin is in case you start hurling again. Don't want you destroying my bed with stomach acid." Quinn said jokingly.

Rachel rolled her eyes, causing her head to pang again.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" She asked, secretly wanting to stay by Quinn's side. It just felt right, especially after all that Quinn did for her today, and the day before, and the day before that… and pretty much ever since they met.

"Of course! You need to rest. Look at you, you're exhausted." Quinn waved the flashlight at her, gesturing with it to her body. Dark circles had developed under Rachel's eyes, and though she was pretty – which Quinn would never point out – she seriously needed to sleep.

"Go on, I'll be here when you wake up, unless I'm ambushed and eaten alive." Quinn joked again.

Instead of a sarcastic glare, genuine fear spread across Rachel's face. _Oh_ _fuck._

"… Which won't happen! Because… I'm a fighter… and a badass zombie killer!" Quinn added, trying to reassure the brunette with a nervous grin.

"It'd better not happen." Rachel muttered as she crawled under the covers.

* * *

><p>"You said you wanted to take a walk – this is us – taking a walk!" Quinn reasoned.<p>

"_This_ is hardly a walk. Look! We've barely walked thirty yards – I can still see your house right there!" Rachel raised her voice, pointing to Quinn's home. "How does one consider this a walk? Are we elderly? Is it because of my stitches? Because I can assure you that they are seriously, finally ready to be taken out. In fact I could pull them out right now, look just watch-"

"No, do not – don't be silly. Stop." Quinn ordered, stopping Rachel from lifting her shirt up.

They stood there bickering for several minutes in the middle of Quinn's block.

"You know what, the last time we 'took a walk'," Quinn started, using her fingers as quotation marks, "we almost _died. _I actually can't believe we're arguing over this."

"I seriously can't believe _you_ – out of all people – are so readily giving into your paranoia so that every time we set foot out of the house, you believe we're going to die."

Quinn's face went bright red, and Rachel swore she could see her hazel eyes burst into flames. Both girls stood back from each other in shock.

"First of all," Quinn began, her HBIC persona stepping in, "There is only you, and me here. You've got no other _people_ to compare me to – unfortunately. Secondly-"

Rachel opened her mouth to interrupt, only to have a hand put in her face.

"Secondly, how many times do I have to say this? My _paranoia_ – as you like to call it – my paranoia is the freaking reason why we're still _here!_" Quinn was almost yelling, lifting her arms up and gesturing to their general surroundings to emphasize her point.

No sooner had she said that then a bunch of infected emerged in the distance at the other end of the block.

"Oh for Christ's sake this is exactly my point. Look!" Quinn pointed to the figures wavering in the distant heat waves that rose from the tarmac, progressively heading in their direction.

Rachel turned and watched them come closer, seemingly puzzled.

"Quinn…"

"Let's get back inside before we know they've started targeting us for sure. Maybe they haven't noticed we're here yet."

"Quinn! If you would just-"

"Rachel! Show me you're not totally insane and get back here now!"

Quinn was darting towards her front door, eyes very much in alarm as she turned to shout at Rachel.

"Quinn! If you would just take a look for one second! Just look for one second!" Rachel bellowed, though it came out more like a girly shriek.

The blonde whipped her head around in boiling frustration, glaring at the approaching undead.

"What is it!" She hissed.

Quinn studied the pack more intently… they were engaging in a fight, but with each other? Perhaps the new breed they'd suspected was evolving was now wiping out the old variety. Rachel moved to stand by her side; both had pistols at the ready. _What the hell are they doing?_

The mass of grunting zombies was now in firing range, and instinctively Quinn raised her gun, staring down the barrel at the closest one. She was about to fire when something absurdly odd appeared in her line of sight. _Why does one of them have blonde hair?_

Quinn leaned forward, lowering her gun. _What the hell? _Rachel had also stepped forward, obviously intrigued as much as Quinn was. Then, in the midst of the raging battle, she saw a figure with dark raven hair. Quinn leaned back. _No_ _way._

The figure shoved a gleaming silver pistol straight into the mouth of a burly zombie that towered over the assailant's small frame. The trigger was pulled, splattering blood and flesh all over the both of them, before the gun was yanked out of the now dead zombie's jaw in one fluid motion, ripping apart its entire face.

"_That's how we do it in Lima heights!"_

* * *

><p><strong>So, hope you guys enjoyed that chapter. Despite having to wait so long for this, I actually wrote it in only two days. Trolololol! Anyways, hope you're all surviving this hiatus! I'm certainly not. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, my exams start in May and I'm already dying as it is. So it'll probably be a while. In the meantime, please review! Thanks.<strong>

**Also, please excuse my horrible spelling/grammar mistakes, if you found any. **


	11. Pinky Promise

**Aww yeah next chapter! My exams are in exactly one month. And I am writing this. And it's worth it.**

* * *

><p>Quinn and Rachel stood on the steps of their house; both completely dumbstruck, with their mouths hanging open as they gaped at Santana – the zombie slaying powerhouse. She was putting a knife blade through a zombie's throat; dark red blood spewing and seeping from the cut almost like an erupting volcano. She wore a crazed, sadistic grin on her face as she ripped her knife from its throat, immediately firing a bullet at another one's head.<p>

The spectating girls could not believe their eyes. This was actually happening. Santana Lopez. _Santana Lopez_ was only fifteen metres away from them, taking down over twenty zombies by herself. _No, wait._ Quinn's eyes darted to the bright blonde – also engaged in combat, a fiery star in the midst of the dull, grey coloured undead. Of course. Of course Brittany was with Santana. Quinn didn't waste another second. In a flash she was racing towards the street, her dual pistols raised and targeting, and an elated grin spread across her face. She could not believe her luck.

Santana was stomping another zombie's face into the tarmac, when out of her peripheral vision she sensed a figure speeding towards her and all the other zombies that would soon be actually dead. Instinctively she raised her arm and pivoted in one smooth motion to point her gun at the new threat. In seconds she found herself aiming straight at the head of a girl with short, wispy blonde hair.

_What the fuck._

Now it was Santana's turn to become completely taken aback. She narrowed her eyes, brow furrowing madly. It took a moment for Santana to register who the hell she was actually looking at. Had Brittany chopped off all her hair without Santana noticing? It was the only possible explanation, no matter how ridiculously impossible it was.

The strange blonde stared hard at Santana, a look of alarm in her wide hazel eyes as she noticed the gun aiming straight at her face. _Those bright hazel eyes…_

At once Santana knew. She felt all the air in her lungs being forced out of her mouth as her brain clicked.

_Quinn Fabray._

For a second all her senses shut down, and she lost herself in a flood of emotions that convulsed through her veins. All she could do was stare, stare at the girl who symbolized _everything_ her life had been. Santana felt the world slow down; she ignored the yowls and screeches of the zombies rapidly approaching her and just stared, with seemingly hollow eyes. A profusion of memories containing the blonde raced into Santana's mind all at once, making her dizzy in the summer heat.

She realized her gun was still aimed point blank at the blonde's head. A look of trepidation washed over Santana's gaping expression, now conscious of what she was going to do with her weapon. Immediately the world came crashing back down, and Santana swallowed hard, lowering her pistol. Now she simply stared at Quinn with wide brown eyes. She really could not believe what she was looking at.

"Quinn fucking Fabray, what the _fuck_ have you done with your hair!" Santana greeted, clearly arranging her priorities properly.

Quinn, fully believing Santana was about to shoot her, breathed a sigh of relief. Only Santana could banter about appearances in the middle of a zombie ambush. She was about to give a snarky reply when all of a sudden, a zombie appeared out of nowhere, smashing directly into Santana's stomach.

"Fuck!" Santana cried, as she went flying through the air.

She landed with a painful thud on the jet-black road.

"Fucking zeds!"

The girl winced in burning pain, though summoning enough strength to shoot three bullets into her assailant's head. As soon as it fell, Santana searched the masses of zombies to find the blonde. She was still disorientated; her vision blurred and her whole body throbbing as her eyes landed on Brittany. Santana made out Brittany's head jolting right up as she let out a gasp, blue eyes locking onto Quinn, before another zombie engaged her and tore her attention away.

Santana momentarily forgot about her long lost friend, and jumped to her feet to help the waves of zombies that were now approaching Brittany.

Meanwhile, Quinn fought her way through the crowd of undead, taking down each one with a bullet to the head. Rachel was behind her, looking even more surprised to see Santana and Brittany than Quinn was. The two girls found themselves back to back, working together as a single unit as they efficiently took down every last zombie.

Gradually the grunts and wails of the undead grew quieter and quieter, until all the girls could hear were the quick breaths and heaves of one another. They stood there awkwardly facing each other, all looking equally overjoyed to be in each other's presence after so long. Yes, _even_ Santana. For a few seconds they just stared, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. After all, who expected to find long lost friends from your high school in a post apocalyptic zombie playground in the middle of Lima, Ohio?

At last, Brittany; ever impatient and utterly ecstatic, could not resist anymore. A sort of cry-squeal-yelp noise that a bird or a sea lion would make escaped from her lips as she zoomed towards Quinn and Rachel, crashing into them like waves on a cliff face. All three girls were thrown to the floor, and what would have been an incredibly painful experience turned into the most heart wrenching reunions Santana had ever seen.

You'd never forget the look on Quinn's face as tears of sheer joy leaked out of her eyes; desperately wrapping her arms around the brunette and the blonde that both weighed down on top of her. She buried her face in Brittany's neck, taking in what smelled like candy canes and strawberries, and then crying even harder because of the familiarity of Brittany's sweet scent. Brittany herself squeezed the girls under her as hard as she could, giggling along with Rachel as they embraced for what seemed to be several hours.

The three of them cried, alternating between sobbing and laughing ridiculously at each other. Santana failed to suppress the smile tugging on her cheeks, chuckling quietly to herself as she looked down at the heap of girls, surrounded by decaying zombie corpses.

Eventually the heat of the tarmac was too much for the pile of girls to bear, and Brittany jumped up, before hauling Quinn and Rachel to their feet with one hand each. As soon as they were upright Brittany flung her arms around them again, this time yanking Santana into the mix. She pulled hard enough to bring everyone's heads crashing together in one simultaneous _'ow!'_

"I thought you were dead!" Quinn sobbed, looking at Santana. "I really believed I'd never see you two again; I've missed you so much, more than you'll ever know."

She adjusted an arm to wrap around Santana's waist, totally not caring that Santana was not a fan of physical affection. It didn't matter. Santana was grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly beside herself.

"Are you kidding?" Santana responded, trying to fight the oncoming tears. "Did you watch me fight these fucking zeds or what? They could never kill me."

Quinn laughed at Santana's shamelss arrogance, looking back at all three of her girls.

"I'm so happy all of you are alive. I've never been so happy in… in…"

Quinn couldn't finish her sentence. She closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the three miracles that she'd been given.

* * *

><p>Within an hour it was as if Santana and Brittany had always been stuck in Hellhole, Ohio. Santana had parked the Ferrari directly in the middle of the forest-lawn of the Fabray residence, and was now laying on the red roof of the car in her underwear, soaking up the sun as she downed her third can of barley wine – one of the few drinks that didn't really expire. Brittany had disappeared, and Quinn was starting to settle into to a Santana-caused state of irritation – a mood she endured daily during high school. She walked up to the car with Rachel in tow, hands placed on her hips.<p>

"Santana."

"Q," she replied, not moving an inch.

"Santana!" Quinn snapped.

The raven-haired girl sat up lazily, adjusting massive sunglasses over her eyes. She looked down at Quinn and Rachel with a irritated expression.

"Taking little Berry out for a stroll are we?" Santana jeered, noticing Rachel's arm looped around Quinn's.

Quinn huffed, shaking away Rachel's arm. The girl retracted immediately, stifling any comebacks that would entice Santana to call her a blabbermouth for the eighth time in one hour. Despite a zombie apocalypse and the overdramatic reunion with the all the cries and the joy, no one could forget the tense relationship Santana still shared with Rachel. She was still very much like her high school self.

"Where is Brittany!" Quinn asked loudly.

Santana scanned around the street as though she were admiring the scenery, pretending to show interest in Brittany's whereabouts. She smacked her lips together and lay her head back down, yawning.

"Don't know. I'm sure she's fine."

Quinn gave Rachel her best 'what the hell' look possible, before they both stared up at Santana quizzically.

"Is this how you two live normally? Because it sure is a wonder how you've managed to survive like this. Does she always just wander off by herself?" Quinn interrogated, walking out towards the street.

"And we should really be inside the house. More zombies could be here any minute! Santana!" Quinn shrieked, whisking around to face Santana on the car.

Santana let out an exaggerated sigh. She made her way off the car roof as though she were a sloth, sliding down rather than jumping off. Quinn glared at her as she walked calmly towards the girls, cleaning her sunglasses with the shirt she carried. She placed them back on nonchalantly and looked up at Quinn.

"No more zeds will come here today." She stated.

Quinn gawked at her like she had not understood a word. "Wha- wait- what?" She spat.

"I said, no more zombies will attack here today! God are you like deaf or something?"

"How in the world could you possibly know that Santana?" Rachel demanded in a shrilly voice.

Santana seemed to become infinitely more annoyed at Rachel's sudden input. Her forehead creased and she looked down her nose at the brunette.

"Because _dwarf,_"

_Here we go,_ Quinn thought.

"We killed the zombie alpha-male just now. Jesus where have you been all this time?" Santana chided.

Rachel scrunched up her face, becoming ever more used to Santana's old insults. Quinn looked completely lost. _Alpha-male?_

Santana recognized this, sighing again. People were such idiots. Idiots who didn't take the time to strategically analyze their situation. All they ever did was run when they saw zombies, or shoot them when they couldn't run. Surviving was so much more than that.

She turned to face Quinn, mocking a baby voice to imply her stupidity. "When you kill the alpha-male of the zombie wombie pack, he won't be alive to tell the mama zombie or the papa zombie where we are. So there'll be no more zombie wombies to chase us later!"

Quinn gave Santana her most furious expression, glaring at her as the veins in her neck and hands popped to the surface.

"Oh." Rachel whispered.

"Yes, Berry, _'oh'_ is an excellent way to put it."

"Wait," Quinn interjected. "How do you even know we killed him? How do you even know there even _is_ such a thing as an alpha-male?"

"Maybe if you spent less time with your head in the basement, and more time actually studying them, you'd know how to properly survive around here." Santana scolded again, poking at Quinn's chest. Quinn brushed her away, absorbing in Santana's wave of reprimands in boiling silence.

"The alpha-male is the palest zombie in the group – it's also the biggest. You know, the one that freaking rammed into my ass?"

Quinn and Rachel remembered back. Yes, it was indeed bigger and whiter than all the others. Yet Quinn remained sceptical; it was the first she'd ever heard of this, and naturally so, since no one else had been around to teach her the zombie sociology 101. She wondered how Santana had come to learn all about them in the first place.

Santana – clearly bored of the conversation – rolled her eyes, before returning to the car. She pulled on her tank and denim shorts, fastened various weapons to her sides and walked back out to the street. Quinn stood there motionless, processing the revelation and wallowing in her newly realized idiocy. Santana came up behind Quinn's shoulder.

"You know, for a zombie killer, you really aren't that smart." She muttered into Quinn's ear. "Now if you're still desperately fearing for Brittany's life, we can go find her… like, before it gets dark and another wave of zed mobs take to the street."

* * *

><p>"When we came up here I definitely thought there'd be fewer zombies. Turns out these newly evolved bitches have already shacked up here in Lima." Santana stated as she led the trio up a different residential street. The Sun was beginning to beat down on them hard; sweat clung to the girls' skin as they walked on the sweltering streets.<p>

"Newly evolved?" Quinn asked, really beginning to doubt her zombie experience and wisdom. Somehow she'd found herself being toured around Lima by Santana, who was meant to be the newcomer here.

"The zombies who can prance about in the sun… seriously what era are you from?"

Quinn looked off into the distance, frustrated. Rachel put a comforting hand on Quinn's shoulder but it was shrugged off again. The HBIC didn't like to be bested by others, especially Santana.

Rachel had reached breaking point again. How could Quinn just seethe there silently while Santana effortlessly threw insults at them? Rachel fidgeted with her fingers and the hem of her shirt until she was unable to contain the word vomit any longer.

"Santana, I really think your treatment of us – especially Quinn – has come to the point where it is no longer tolerable. I seriously think – given the circumstances today – that you really should be showing a great deal more gratitude for having-"

"Wow, calm down Berry – hope your panties aren't too twisted up there. And really, I honestly don't know how you've managed to stay alive all this time. I mean, at least Quinn _looks_ like she knows how to shoot a gun, but you-"

"Santana shut up." Quinn ordered.

"Jeez, can no one have a laugh these days?" Santana smirked.

They walked on in silence, Santana strolling calmly while Quinn and Rachel anxiously hawked over every house like it would explode any second. Once again they found themselves on the street where Santana lived.

"You two need to relax. You both look like you're in a coke withdrawal. Trust me, we won't be hearing from any more zeds until tonight. Then you can start looking like addicts again."

"Why did you two come back anyway?" Quinn asked, getting increasingly annoyed. She held both her guns tightly, eyes scanning every inch of the street.

Santana stopped walking. She didn't want to say 'because Brittany made them come', for quite obvious reasons.

"Like I said, we wanted to find some place where there wouldn't be any evolved zombies."

"So you came to _Lima?_"

"We came _north_. Just randomly arrived here. Probably just instincts or something."

"So you _did_ want to come-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Santana interrupted, eyes wide with what seemed to be terror.

Quinn and Rachel squealed in unison like five-year-old girls – grabbing frantically onto each other as if trying to escape a shark attack coming from below – only to realize there weren't any zombies leaping out from the bushes towards them. A moment passed before they registered the awkward position they were in; Rachel blushed as they untangled from each other, and Quinn thanked every divine power she could think of for not letting Santana see what had just happened. They quickly brushed off, and followed her gaze to whatever had captured her attention.

"What the _fuck_ did they do to my house!" Santana yelled, gesturing aggressively towards it with both hands.

Rachel stared at the fortress of a house, its impeccable white walls and beaming steel window frames completely intact, unlike the shambles of almost every other house on the street. Not even the picket fence had started to bend over, as it stood there tall and defiant. The magnificent blue door was still ajar from when Quinn had searched it. Rachel contemplated telling Santana that she had once stayed in her basement. She quickly buried that thought after taking a second glance at Santana's enraged face.

Quinn looked at Santana, astounded and disappointed at the same time. She sighed, Santana's _mansion_ was untouched. Maybe its intimidating demeanour had scared the undead away, much like Santana already did.

"San, your house is still standing. I don't even think any zombies have gone near it, which is insane."

"Are you blind? Look at my house! It's a fucking mess! Who knows what the hell they've been doing inside!"

"You're overreacting – again. Can we please just look for Brittany now… her house is next door. And if you look at the other houses I'm sure you'll agree that yours is in pristine condition compared to the rest of them." Quinn retorted, grabbing Santana's arm.

Santana flinched away, feet rooted to the spot as she stared up at her flawless-destroyed home. Quinn glared at Rachel in exasperation, imitating a strangling gesture in the air. Rachel smiled to herself and looked at the ground. If Quinn wasn't able to tell Santana what to do, then Rachel was definitely worse than useless. She shrugged her shoulders at Quinn in defeat.

So they stood there again, wasting time. Quinn paced for a while, waiting for Santana to come back to Earth. When she didn't, the blonde sighed loudly in exaggeration. Rachel took her hand – for once Quinn didn't retract – and dragged her to the curb. She sat them both down on the heated sidewalk. Five minutes passed and Santana still hadn't budged, when the two girls noticed Brittany's door open. They stiffened against each other; Quinn's hand grasped protectively onto Rachel's knee as they both stared at the opening door, only to see Brittany herself come flying out the house, wheeling a gleaming silver wheelbarrow.

Quinn and Rachel allowed themselves to exhale, relaxing at once. They stood up, a mix of solace and confusion on their faces as Brittany bobbed towards them with a lollipop hanging out her mouth, radiant as ever. All attempts at being angry with her for disappearing were forgotten as she flashed a toothy grin at the girls. Santana was still gaping at her 'ruined' house.

"Brittany! Where have you been all this time? You have no idea how worried we've been, you can't just disappear like that whenever you want!" Quinn exclaimed, trying to sound as cross as possible.

The girl pulled to a stop in front of Rachel and Quinn.

"Sorry, I've just been gathering things," she murmured, gesturing to her wheelbarrow and pulling on her best apologetic face, which was probably the most adorable thing any of them had seen in forever.

Brittany leaned over to look at the motionless Santana, puzzled. She popped the lolly out of her mouth and bent over, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, while Quinn and Rachel looked on eagerly to see if Santana would respond.

It seemed to raise her out of her frozen state. She turned to face Brittany, forgetting completely about her house as a tiny smile appeared on her face. It was erased as soon as she saw what Brittany had brought with her.

"Britt, what is this?" She asked, heading towards the wheelbarrow.

"Hold up. Aren't you surprised she's not dead? She just appeared out of nowhere!" Quinn stood in front of Santana, flustered.

"Honey, you worry too much. Now move." Quinn was tossed aside like a sheet of paper and Santana bent over the assortment of treasure that Brittany had scavenged from her house.

The other girls gathered around soon enough, looking through Brittany's treasure. Rachel lifted a large brown shoebox from the pile, opening it only to find a great deal of white dust. She stared at it with baffled interest. _Brittany does drugs?_

"Brittany, what exactly is this?" Rachel asked, taking in a whiff of the dust.

"Lord Tubbington's ashes." Brittany replied casually, chewing on the lolly that Santana hadn't noticed yet.

Rachel almost dropped it, crying out in shock. Brittany thrust her arms out to help Rachel hold it still. She took the box from her, cradling it as Rachel flailed her arms in the air to try and 'cleanse' herself of dead cat material. Santana smirked to herself.

"Wow you have so much booze in here!" She stated; looking significantly more overjoyed than when she'd reunited with Quinn for the first time in years.

Quinn and Rachel shared a look, knowing full well what alcohol would do to them, not to mention the additional two girls they'd received.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" Quinn asked, pulling a whole variety of items out of the pile, from batteries to iPods to old copies of Cosmo to red _lingerie_, which she was pretty sure belonged to Santana.

Brittany sucked hard on her candy again before answering. "Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders!"

All three girls lifted their heads, staring in silent bewilderment at Brittany. What she was referencing exactly had been long forgotten in their minds.

Santana yanked the lollipop out of Brittany's mouth.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe, out of every single building in Lima, not to mention all the other possible places you could have chosen to live in, you picked <em>your<em> excuse of a house to shack up." Santana sneered as she clambered into Quinn's pitch-black basement. "Have you really been living in Lima all this time?"

Quinn nodded, rolling her eyes as she followed the girls down the stairs.

"Don't you know about the armoury in Columbus? Wait, hold on, let me start again… do you know _anything_?"

"Are you gonna criticize my life choices all day or are you gonna help me move Brittany's loot into the basement!"

"I think I'll go with the first choice. I mean – you _have_ made some weird decisions. Like for instance, when did you decide to let Berry in the house?"

Rachel coughed dramatically. "You know I'm standing right here!" She blurt out, before tripping on the staircase with a loud thud. "Ow!"

"My point exactly – just look at her." Santana sniggered, turning the lights of the basement on as she stepped over Rachel's legs. "Wow this place is such a dump!"

"SANTANA! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Quinn screamed, face going bright red as if it were about to explode. "Ugh, just go! Or piss off for a second! Go do something productive and just shut up!" She yelled; voice cracking as she tried to hang on to what was left of her sanity.

Brittany appeared in the basement a second later, looking concerned. Her friends fought way too much that anyone apart from the four in the room would've thought them to be sworn enemies, just as Quinn and Rachel once were. Maybe even worse.

Brittany gently took Santana's wrist and pulled her away from Quinn and Rachel, taking her around the corner where they could be alone.

Quinn sighed, for maybe the millionth time today. Santana was both emotionally and physically consuming all of her energy that she just wanted to flop on her bed and pass out. Zombies couldn't make her feel this exhausted.

"You okay?" Rachel said quietly from behind. She was still sitting at the bottom of the steps from her tumble down the stairs.

"I should be the one asking you that," Quinn muttered, turning around and helping Rachel to her feet. "Sorry that Santana's such a bitch. You know San… she's a bitch."

"Can't get clearer than that can it?" Rachel chuckled.

"Why is it funny to you? You're taking all her crap in silence! Don't you just want to scream at her?"

Rachel smiled sadly up at Quinn, empathizing as much she could. "Yes, I would like to teach her a lesson. Not that she'd listen or change. I think she's just got a lot on her mind. She just got to Lima and was ambushed! And then she met us! It's so much to take in emotionally. A lot has happened today and I suggest we just settle down for tonight – let's wait to deal with everything tomorrow."

Quinn laughed to herself, shaking her head.

"What's so funny now?"

"Nothing. Just… Up to now I've been the emotionally stable one… sort of. I guess now it's you, even though Santana's insulting you every five seconds."

Rachel grinned, realizing that she was in fact more sane and rational than Quinn was in this moment. She found herself leaning in to the blonde, wrapping her hands around the small of Quinn's back. Quinn was thankful for it, reciprocating the hug by enveloping Rachel's back too.

They stood in the hug for minutes; Quinn could feel her heart rate slow down and her anger fade away as she took in the intoxicating smell of Rachel's hair, while the shorter girl relaxed at the connection with Quinn's neck, sinking into her warm skin, never wanting to let go. They just fit, perfectly. Both of them privately promised themselves they would never lose one another. And at the end of the day, no matter how many zombies had tried to kill them or how many wounds they received, as long as they still had each other to hold onto, that was all they really needed.

* * *

><p>Rachel leaned back into Quinn as they sat on the couch. The blonde was reading an old copy of <em>The Great Gatsby<em>, when the touch of Rachel's hair stirred her. Naturally Quinn lifted her arm behind the couch so Rachel could mould herself into the space by Quinn's side.

"Read to me." Rachel said softly, closing her eyes.

It wouldn't be long until the screams started, and Rachel wanted to soak up as much peace as possible before they did.

"Read to you?" Quinn asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious for still uncertain reasons.

"Mhmm," Rachel mumbled, adjusting her head on Quinn's chest, as she draped an arm over the front of Quinn's waist.

Quinn felt her heart rate start to pick up again. "You want me to read this boring old book to you?"

"I just want to be able to hear your voice properly before the zombies start at it again tonight."

Quinn felt her insides melt as Rachel exhaled on her neck. Her whole body seemed to be malfunctioning. So much so that she couldn't deny the wishes of the girl that was practically sprawled across on her body.

"Right, let's see. Where was I? Oh, okay – this is in chapter six, just so you know." Quinn cleared her throat, and as soon as she began reading did she immediately regret doing so. _"__His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy's white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God." _

Quinn paused, mouth thick with saliva, feeling like she was about to fall off a cliff. It occurred to Quinn that there was definitely something wrong with herself… with _this._ Rachel was suddenly way too close for comfort… head on her chest; hand on her hip, breath on her neck… Rachel was… Rachel-

"Quinn?"

Quinn almost dropped the book on the floor as she jumped, jerking Rachel up as well. "Huh?" She breathed, eyes wide. _Oh God oh God oh God… what's going on with me!_

"Um… you stopped reading…" She turned to look up at her reader. "Quinn are you all right? You seem a little red." Rachel sat up and cupped Quinn's cheek. "Wow you are really burning. Do you feel sick? Dehydrated? I didn't pass anything to you did I? You didn't ingest any of my puke the other day did you? Because you know that-"

"I'm fine." Quinn interrupted, removing Rachel's hand away from her cheek as gently as she could without implying any offence or discomfort towards the brunette. Rachel wouldn't let up. She continued to stare straight into Quinn's eyes, as if trying to physically extract a reason from her soul.

Quinn looked around, conjuring an excuse.

"It's just…" Quinn scrambled through her excuse pile, desperately. Rachel leaned in closer to her face, unknowingly speeding up her thinking process significantly. "It's just this chapter – this book, I- I just feel for Gatsby so much you know?" Quinn explained, holding a hand to her chest to emphasize her mock-passion. "He's accomplished his ultimate pursuit, kissing Daisy – and this whole book is about his pursuit to get his life back," she rambled on aimlessly, looking at Rachel every couple seconds to see if she'd back down. "I mean – it doesn't even matter if Daisy only represents wealth and status to him! I just – I just feel so emotional over it!"

Quinn paused; she'd made a billion dramatic hand gestures to convey her 'deep feelings' in that one ramble. Hopefully Rachel would relax now. She stared at her, waiting for the response.

"Oh Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed. She flung her arms around Quinn's neck, pulling her into another hug, and instantly Quinn felt at home, despite almost having a breakdown about the physical contact earlier. God, Rachel had such an effect on her – it was a real roller coaster ride with this girl.

"I love your passion. I always knew in school you loved reading. You read all the time, didn't you?" Quinn nodded even though Rachel couldn't see. "It's so amazing that even after all this time we still keep the same passions."

Breathing yet another sigh of relief, Quinn relaxed back into the couch, satisfied with her acting skills. Rachel curled up into her again, and this time the blonde welcomed her fully, putting her arm over Rachel's shoulder.

"Quinn."

"Yep?" Quinn asked, dazed.

"You stopped reading?"

"Oh! Yeah I did didn't I? Okay, where were we… ah yes. _So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete."_

"GAY!"

A voice came from the other side of the basement.

Quinn and Rachel turned ice cold, leaping to opposite ends of the couch in a move faster than light. A blushing Quinn looked up from the floor to find Santana snickering at them while Brittany was shooting her a look of annoyance.

"Well it was!" Santana justified, ignoring all the hypocrisy implied. She put on a deep voice – supposedly imitating Quinn's – and recited the quote for the world to hear, annunciating every word dramatically. "Then he _kissed_ her… At his _lips'_ touch she _blossomed_ for him like a _flower_!"

"San! That's not what you came here to do!" Brittany scolded, which made Santana shut up immediately. "But Quinn, what _are_ you reading… it sounded really corny! And also, you guys seemed really into it." Brittany teased, winking at Quinn.

Quinn's face could not have gone a deeper shade of red. "It was _The Great Gatsby_," she muttered barely audibly, before looking to the floor. _Damn it Santana!_

Another look from Brittany seemed to turn Santana serious again. They walked towards the couch together, Brittany's hand on Santana's shoulder. Quinn thought it was to contain Santana from eating her alive, and instinctively she tried as hard as possible to recede into the sofa. The girls came to a stop in front of the couch; Brittany gave her a nudge before Santana decided to open her mouth.

"I – I'm sorry." Santana started, fiddling with the holes in her denim shorts. Quinn and Rachel looked up at her in surprise. The long pause she took told the girls that this one phrase had drained a lot of energy from her already. Santana swallowed; how long had it been since she'd apologized to _anyone? _A millennium?

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated both of you, and I really hope you'll come to forgive me." She turned to Rachel first. "Berry, you may be a really loud hobbit-"

"San!" Brittany reproached. Rachel furrowed her brow and crossed her arms disapprovingly.

"Sorry. Um… yeah. _Rachel,_ I will try harder not to call you insulting names, or annoy you for my own pleasure." Rachel softened at that.

"Go on," Brittany encouraged, rubbing the small of Santana's back.

"Q, I suppose I've been more of a bitch to you than ever before,"

"You _suppose_." Quinn tested.

"All right – I've been a cynical lazy asshole bastard slut thing." Quinn nodded, slightly more pleased with this strange correction. "I'm really sorry for not cooperating; you've been living here the longest so you know the place best. From now on you make the calls… even though that's fucking ridiculous-" She caught herself before she stepped too far. "Anyway, I'm really sorry you guys. I won't be a sarcastic bitch starting tomorrow."

Rachel and Quinn shared a look, and both nodded. Sure, it was a messy apology, but Santana was relatively new at it anyway. There'd definitely be other chances for her to get better. So Quinn turned back to Santana.

"D'you really promise not to be a sarcastic bitch?"

"I promise." Santana said monotonously.

"Good."

"Wait!" Brittany cried out. "Pinky promise!" The three girls looked at her, Santana and Quinn looking especially mortified. "Do it! Now!"

Brittany grabbed Santana's arms and thrust them towards the girls on the couch, where they awkwardly held each other's pinkies for a second, trying not to hold eye contact with one another for too long.

"Yes!" Brittany squealed when they'd sealed the deal.

She pushed Santana over and they toppled onto the couch, Brittany squishing in between Quinn and Santana. Rachel tried as hard as possible not to touch Santana at all, shifting towards the edge of the couch in what she thought to be fear. Quinn noticed Brittany was wearing blue and white striped pyjama shorts, with a hot pink shirt that Quinn was pretty sure belonged to herself.

"No more fighting." Brittany said with adorable earnest, waving her index finger at Santana and Quinn. When she was content with her efforts, she fell back into the couch, clasping both their hands in her own.

Rachel looked on at them, admiring how they were still so close. She couldn't help but feel a little jealousy over the friendship they shared; how no matter what, they'd always be friends, even if Santana ate Quinn's arm off, or something along those lines. Rachel never had that privilege in high school, but as she looked at Quinn grinning back at her, she began to think that maybe, just maybe, her and Quinn were on their way to developing that sort of bond.

* * *

><p>"So what were you guys up to for the past hour while we were... um... reading?" Quinn asked loudly, trying to be heard over the wails of the roaring zombies above ground.<p>

They were sitting cross-legged on the floor, over a game of monopoly that only Brittany was really paying attention to. The lights had been switched off; Rachel decided it was an appropriate time to start burning candles since they had _guests._ Santana had changed into her pyjamas, which was basically her black underwear again. _At least they're not wearing _all_ my clothes. _It had taken Rachel several minutes to become used to Santana's complete lack of modesty, now she simply refrained from looking at Santana at all.Brittany focused on the monopoly board, turning to lie on her stomach as she moved her little metallic dog straight onto the 'go to jail' spot. She frowned deeply, putting her piece on the jail spot.

"We were upstairs." Santana replied, moving to lay her head on the small of Brittany's back. She rolled the dice and tapped at Brittany's shoulder to move her token for her. Brittany did so, and then slumped into the carpet, closing her eyes. A moment's silence passed; hundreds of questions hung in the air, like where they'd all been, if they'd seen any other humans… except now they were all too tired to interact with one another. Rachel yawned, copying Santana and laying down on Quinn's outstretched leg. She closed her eyes as Quinn – without thinking – began brushing Rachel's bangs out of her eyes, to which Rachel smiled widely at.

Quinn looked up to find Santana glaring at her suspiciously. _Fuck._ How was she going to explain her intricate and unusual friendship with Rachel? Did Santana dare suspect the obvious? Quinn fidgeted with the carpet, deciding whether to move away from Rachel even though she didn't want to at all. Santana said nothing, simply gazing into Quinn's mind, trying to unpick the mess of feelings she had knotted up inside her. Quinn's look turned into pleading; hazel eyes begging Santana not to open her mouth. However Santana's expression was unreadable, and Quinn held her breath helplessly; at any moment Santana could ruin what she and Rachel had – or at least make it significantly more awkward for them.

Finally Santana looked away, after an agonizingly long stare. By now Quinn knew her best friend had formulated a judgement, but it didn't matter for the moment. They'd deal with it later. Santana had held her tongue, and Quinn was eternally grateful. She looked down, making sure to avoid eye contact with Santana for the rest of the night, and instead set her eyes on Rachel, who was tranquil and motionless. The serenity she evoked calmed Quinn down immediately, and she leaned back onto her hands, enjoying the peacefulness of the basement, despite the wild chaos of the undead above them.

It was Brittany who broke the 'silence' first. "So Rachel," she began, playing with the paper monopoly money as she did so, "what've you been doing for the past three years?"

Rachel's big brown eyes popped open to meet Quinn's curious ones. Quinn had never asked much about Rachel's past, figuring it was too painful for her to talk about. Rachel was speechless for a moment, deciding what to say first. Quinn – now a hundred percent engaged in what Rachel was going to say – placed a hand gently on the brunette's stomach, rubbing softly in encouragement. Quinn's eyes shot to Santana to see if she was still glaring at them. _Thank Jesus she's not, this is risky enough as it is._

Rachel closed her eyes before answering. "Well, like I said to Quinn before, I spent most of the time travelling around New England, just roaming around aimlessly and searching for signs of other people. I would wake up feeling utterly hopeless and scared that I wouldn't last the next day, or the next hour." Rachel explained, becoming electrified at Quinn's touch.

She was reminded of the repair work Quinn had performed on her body last night, how she'd ached and yearned for Quinn to continue massaging her. Now it was happening again, and this time Rachel stopped thinking – she was no longer afraid to indulge in it. Her body was on fire, and Rachel gritted her teeth to avoid releasing any noises that would cause everyone to stop and stare at her.

"What about your dads?" Santana asked lazily, eyes closed. Quinn became confused. Was Santana actually showing interest in _Rachel Berry?_

"My dads were converted in Pennsylvania." Rachel replied bluntly.

"Did you have to… you know…"

"K- Kill them? … Yes, it was a horrible, excruciating experience. I stayed with them as they turned, as they told me their last goodbyes." She had tears sitting on her eyelids, which caused Quinn's heart to fall into her stomach. She hated seeing Rachel upset. But the brunette swallowed the lump in her throat; continuing her story.

"As soon as I did the... deed, I ran away. I never wanted to return to that state again so I took off and left – to New York actually. It was there that I had my real breakdown, seeing the city in shambles. Stupidly I stayed in the city, just living in depression at what the world had become." No one could ignore the drama she'd fed into her tale. It made Brittany wiggle her eyebrows in puzzlement.

"Wait. Back up just a minute." Santana cut in, not very affected by Rachel's theatricality. "You lived in New York?" She asked, eyes opening wide.

Rachel paused, confused. "Yes…"

"_New York,_ New York?"

"Yes, New York city. I don't get-"

"Oh my God!" Santana said loudly, sitting up with an almost traumatized look on her face. "You lived in fucking New York?"

Quinn stared at Santana, totally lost. "San, what is so wrong with New York?"

"Nothing you dumb blonde." She spat, without looking at Quinn. Brittany reached her arm back to try and smack Santana for her abusive remark. "New York is the freaking ground zero of zombie land! You know, where the virus first got out? Ugh of course you don't know. You don't know anything."

"Remember the pinky promise!" Brittany shouted. Santana turned back to Rachel, looking at her with newfound respect.

"You must've been either real smart or real crazy to have survived _there._" Santana declared, oblivious to her backhand compliments. She continued to ramble on about the glory of surviving New York.

Rachel was beaming, overjoyed to finally be receiving kindness from Santana herself. She looked up at Quinn, who shrugged her shoulders, also grinning at what had just happened. For the rest of the night, they continued to listen intently to Santana's rumours and theories, until they all dozed off along with the candles that slowly faded out with them. Santana and Brittany fell asleep wrapped up in each other arms, finally safe from late night ambushes that they'd endured for weeks.

Rachel rested her head on Quinn's stomach, which rose and fell like the calmest of seas. She held the last lit candle as it flickered out, thinking about all her now dead dreams she'd had about becoming a broadway legend in the great city of New York. When the room turned pitch dark, she sighed with slight dejection, before finding comfort as she took Quinn's hand in her own. Soon she too, had slipped into peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>It was 3:30am when I finished this! Writing about sleeping when you're about to pass out is the worst thing ever. Please continue to review! There's still 9 days until Glee returns, so not long now. The wait has been agonizing.<strong>


	12. Let's Do This

**So I am procrastinating ridiculously. I managed to watch both seasons of PLL in 3 days. Didn't sleep at all. And now I am back here! Also, after this week's first listen Friday, and I'm pretty sure RIB will have to change the show's name to 'The Blaine Show'. Blaine Blaine Blaine Blaine! Erugh.**

* * *

><p>The dimly lit basement smelled of a musty, thick air as Santana's eyes slit open. Everything was silent, but somehow there was still a horrible ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes further; her body aching in some places and completely asleep in others, not feeling rested at all. Her head was throbbing as Santana realized her and Brittany had fallen asleep together and remained in the exact same position for the entire night. Then she smiled, pain dissipating at once. She burrowed her head further into Brittany's chest as she tangled their legs closer together.<p>

"Morning," she slurred.

Brittany's eyes popped open suddenly, pulled out of sleep by Santana's breath on her neck.

"Mhmm."

The blonde smiled, placing a kiss on Santana's forehead. "We're still here," she murmured lazily.

"Yep, we still are."

They pulled each other in even closer for a hug; it was something they did almost every morning to show their thankfulness for not being killed in their sleep. Everyday for the past few weeks had been a near death experience, and even now in the safety of Quinn's basement did they still feel grateful for waking up in each other's arms; alive.

Santana raised her head and looked around. Quinn and Rachel weren't around. Instead of feeling anxious, the girl grinned, happy to be rid of Rachel's obnoxious mouth and Quinn's incessant demands. She laid her head back down, shifting upwards to be level with Brittany, and fixed her gaze on the blonde's big blue eyes. Together they submerged in their secluded silence, just gazing at each other for a small moment. There was nothing in this house, nothing in Lima, nothing in the world that could ever be as captivating as Brittany's eyes. In them Santana was whisked worlds away, where she could bask in their memories in peace.

She remembered the long, boiling summers they'd spent alone in her bedroom, with Brittany's naked body draped across her own. Way back when they still had the freedom and luxury of feeling bored. It was such as simple thing – boredom. Nowadays such a thing would probably cost them their lives. For hours upon hours the girls would just lie there soaking in the lassitude of it all, and in Brittany's boundless blue eyes Santana saw the endless journeys they would make together. Sometimes she swore she would see the waves of rippling blue oceans, or maybe even frozen icicles melting in the sunlight. Brittany's piercing gaze would be intently focused on Santana; it made her want to crawl up into those immeasurable eyes and be safe forever, like a child hiding from a storm.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three years ago, summer 2011<strong>_

_A cool breeze joined the girls briefly, rustling the soft white curtains ever so slightly as it seemed to wade through the window of Brittany's room. Santana sighed quietly when the breeze reached her glistening body, providing the room with much needed relief. The Ohio summer was at its peak, Santana swore she could see the little heat waves rippling right outside the window, but they were quickly forgotten as Brittany shifted her lithe body onto her own. _

_Brittany's kisses were light and gentle and velvety on her face, so soft and feathery that Santana hardly would've noticed if not for the short breaths Brittany took between each peck, or the way her fingers glided effortlessly through Santana's. _

"_Britt," Santana smiled, her neck ticklish as Brittany's golden hair brushed against it._

_Brittany sat up a little, pushed her hair over one shoulder and moved to kiss the other side of Santana's face, ignoring her. She gently kissed the spot below Santana's ear, making the girl below her twitch ever so slightly._

"_Brittany." _

"_San."_

"_Come here."_

_Brittany stopped, lying down and facing Santana. Santana groomed through the blonde's hair, moving strands out of her freckled face. Every sense and feeling of one another was heightened. She could feel every centimetre of Brittany's slightly moist skin against her own. She could feel the girl inhale and exhale, pressing further into Santana's chest. She felt her heart, so close to her own as they pumped blood through her veins. She felt all of her. Then she lost herself in Brittany's eyes, dreaming of open roads and endless sky._

* * *

><p>"<em>If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?" Santana asked. The heat had become so unbearable that it had shot into triple digits. Rachel, overly ambitious and obnoxious as she was, had decided to invite the glee club for a pool party and naturally, Santana had found herself being dragged along by Brittany.<em>

_Brittany spun around, blue eyes shimmering with wanderlust. Santana could almost see the thousands of destinations exploding to life in Brittany's mind as the girl tried hard to pick just one. It didn't matter. Santana already knew which one she'd pick._

"_Florida," she said, before continuing to spin round in circles by their deck chairs. _

_She was stunning. Breathtaking. Beautiful. And Santana could go on and on._

_Her eyes groomed up the spinning body; Brittany was all long limbed and muscle toned, every inch of her skin kissed by the sun's light. She watched as golden hair tumbled down over her bare shoulders and as other locks flew in the air as she whirled, radiating magic and sunshine towards everyone around her. Santana melted when Brittany stopped suddenly – slightly dizzy – and smiled the biggest smile Santana had ever seen on anyone, before she bent over and kissed her lightly on the nose. _

"_Why Florida?" Santana asked. She already knew why._

_Brittany's eyes glazed over, dreamily. "I want to see the sea."_

_Santana smirked. "No, you just want to try and ride the dolphins." _

_Brittany giggled, not bothering to deny her. The sound almost pushed Santana over her feet. A split second later she found herself being yanked up over Brittany's shoulder. She grabbed at Brittany's back and yelled and pounded; before she knew it she was flying through the air and into the pool. She splashed straight in, plunging into the depths of the blue. The cool water alleviated the heat of the day, and when Santana decided to surface, she watched Brittany dive in just like the dolphins she dreamed of seeing. _

_Water droplets clung to her shining, toned abdomen as she floated towards Santana, who yearned to touch her. The curve of her breasts, the deep gorge between her collarbones and her long, glistening neck; it captivated Santana, locking her eyes to Brittany's gorgeous body. Sam had pushed both Finn and Puck into the pool at the deep end, sending tidal waves toward the girls. The water sloshed against Brittany's gleaming skin, and Santana stared with hungry eyes; teeth biting down on her lower lip with desire. Brittany opened one eye, picked up on Santana's undulating look of longing and immediately she felt amazed by Santana's shamelessness, and so proud of how far the girl had come. Just a couple months ago they couldn't even hold hands in public. Now, Brittany could show Santana off to world, every single day._

_Santana waded towards her girl, backing her up against the pool wall. She wrapped her hands around the blonde's waist, bringing herself in close, and stared deep into the eyes that reminded her so much of the ocean she'd never seen._

"_I'll show you the sea one day." Santana whispered._

_That was all it took. Before she knew it Brittany's lips were on her own, and she felt her blood race through her veins as their lips melded together for the thousandth time. Always, it felt like coming home. Neither girl cared who was watching anymore. They blocked out the sounds of Puck's cheering and Kurt's gushing; cutting themselves off from the world. Santana closed her eyes, embracing the silk of Brittany's tongue as it slid on her lower lid, making Santana lean in further. A small moan escaped her and she wrapped an arm around Brittany's neck; her own wet strands of raven black hair clinging to the blonde's cheeks. She could feel Brittany's bright smile against her lips._

* * *

><p>"San? San," Brittany poked lightly at Santana's nose, like ringing a doorbell. "Can you hear me? Earth to Santana?"<p>

Santana snapped out of the time machine that Brittany's eyes had induced, blinking back to the present.

"Thought I lost you there for a minute," Brittany chirped. She began rubbing Santana's back up and down, running her fingers along the curve of her waist.

"Yeah… I was just remembering some stuff."

Santana looked at Brittany poignantly. She _had_ shown Brittany the sea in Florida, only the first time they'd laid eyes on the rolling waves they were also being chased by a hoard of undead. It just wasn't fair – what life had thrown at them. Together they had experienced so much, probably more than Quinn and Rachel could even believe, and yet Brittany was staring straight at Santana with a smile no smaller than the one she wore on that hot summer day five years ago. No one could ever break this beautiful girl, and Santana was forever thankful that she had Brittany to hold herself together. She returned the smile Brittany was giving her.

"I love it when you smile." Brittany whispered. "You hardly smile anymore."

Santana cupped her face, tracing her thumb over her freckled cheekbones. She pulled her in for a long, relieving kiss. Which turned into another kiss, and another, and then another, and then a full on make out session.

Santana broke off for a second, eyeing the room again.

"I think I know how we can pass the time."

* * *

><p>The two of them scurried towards the Cadillac, both with crates full of food and other supplies. The sun was rising in the sky as they walked out of another abandoned store.<p>

"You sure Brittany and Santana won't wonder where we've gone?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure they wouldn't notice even if we died and never came back."

"I love how you have _so much_ faith in your friends."

Quinn nudged Rachel's shoulder, sending her stumbling over a little as she tried to control the crate's contents from falling out. They loaded the car's trunk with the supplies before Quinn closed the trunk. Instead of getting in the car, Rachel stood there, shuffling her feet and twiddling her fingers. Quinn studied her, suddenly realizing what Rachel wanted.

"You want to drive the car again."

Rachel's voice was barely audible. "Yes."

Quinn sighed, knowing in the end she would not be able to deny this girl. The 'act' was too adorable.

"The last time you drove my car you almost wrapped around a pole!"

"That's only because you were screaming at me the whole time I was driving it!"

"And _that's_ only because you were blasting _Rent_ on the CD player!"

Rachel ogled at Quinn with her entrancing chocolate eyes, actively hypnotising Quinn into handing over the keys. Quinn shook her head and smiled. Of course Rachel would win over. It was always like this with Rachel. She both loved and hated how easily the brunette could mould her. Before she even realized, the keys were already in Rachel's hand and the girl was skipping over into the driver's seat.

_Child._

Quinn resorted to the passenger seat and they were off, her eyes wide in fear as Rachel ambled the car down the road.

"You don't even now how to use the stick properly!"

"Calm down I'm doing just fine." Rachel was having a blast, while Quinn looked as if she were sitting on a nuclear bomb.

"You need to release the clutch."

"I _am. _Look at my feet I did it."

"Wait, you're not at the right speed for that gear!"

"It's fine!"

"Clutch! No. No that's not the clutch! Rach! Second gear! No that's third gear- NO RACHEL THAT'S REVERSE! Oh my God! Rachel, shit. No! Stick it left – the other left!"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Ugh no! Here just let me do it." Quinn reached over to grab the stick, but was blocked by Rachel's hand. A small hand slapping fight ensued as the car veered from left to right, winding down the road.

"Quinn! Please be quiet and refrain from grabbing the gear stick! I promise you I have this under control! If you would just let me do it instead of berating me every second!" Rachel pleaded, trying to push Quinn's insistent hands away from the car's controls.

Quinn could practically feel her car falling apart in the hands of Rachel Berry as she tried to grab the gear stick from her.

"Stop the car! Just stop. Stop now."

"Quinn-"

"Stop!"

Rachel pulled to a heavy stop; slamming the breaks down hard and making the two of them lurch forwards in their seats. They sat there panting like they had just run a marathon. Rachel opened her mouth as soon as she had gathered enough breath.

"I had it under-"

"No, you didn't."

"Yes I did! You just don't trust me enough with-"

"Get out of the driver's seat."

Quinn didn't wait for Rachel to argue back. She stepped out of the car and quickly made her way around to Rachel. They swapped places in silence. Within a few seconds they were gliding smoothly along the silent, crumbling streets again.

Rachel rolled the windows down, propping her elbow on the window frame. For a while she simply stared out at the streets, not saying a word. Quinn kept her eyes forward too, keeping both hands on the wheel. The frustration was building up in the car; both girls could feel it in their throats. It wasn't even a big fight, but they knew it was all the little disagreements they had everyday which were really starting to get to them. Quinn realized this was getting dangerous. With Santana under her roof, there would definitely be more pathetic fights over trivial things.

"Q-Quinn." Rachel spoke softly, staring at her knees. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Quinn swallowed. Was the girl about to _cry?_ Rachel's hitched voice ripped Quinn's chest apart; she tried desperately to hold onto the threads of her anger as they seemingly disappeared at the sound of Rachel's words.

"No. No, no I just – I just love this car. I can't stand the thought of it being wrecked."

Quinn kept her eyes forward; she knew the car was a metaphor for something else, and she knew if she even glimpsed at Rachel then she'd probably end up doing something really, really stupid.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel turned to look at Quinn, who looked strained and nervous at the same time. Why did it look like she having an internal battle with herself?

"I just thought we could do something fun alone this morning before we get back to Santana." Rachel said, compassion in her expression.

Quinn's brain stopped functioning at the word 'alone'. What exactly did Rachel want? Was Santana driving a wedge between them? After a moment of puzzlement Quinn spoke.

"Don't worry about Santana. We'll… we'll deal with her. Somehow. And we're gonna be fine, Rach. There's plenty of ways for us to have fun in this old empty town… just don't ask to drive my car again!" Quinn said, allowing herself to grin at Rachel briefly.

Rachel chuckled a little, relaxing back into her seat. Without thinking Quinn reached over, her hand falling on Rachel's knee.

The awkward silence that followed was thoroughly unbearable.

Quinn instantly glued her eyes to the road, putting on her emergency level poker face, and privately kicking herself in the _soul_ for doing what she'd just done. She didn't dare twitch her hand, her arm, her shoulder. The entire right side of her body stiffened like ice. For all anybody knew it could've been a marble statue driving the Cadillac down the street. _An idiotic, ridiculous, senseless marble statue._

What the hell was Rachel thinking? _Why the fuck isn't she saying anything? Say something god damn it! Ask me what the hell I'm doing? Tell me to move my hand! _Quinn's lips formed a narrow line across her pale white face, still trying not to consume any oxygen at all. Her hands were clammy and hot on Rachel's knee, she could feel sweat flowing out of every single pore like burning lava. Quinn tried to conjure up something to say, something to do that wouldn't make removing her hand from Rachel's thigh become the scene of the year or somehow appear on the cover of TIME magazine even if they were in the middle of a global apocalypse. She was so caught up in racking her brain for _anything_ to do, that she didn't realize Rachel had already taken her hand in her own.

"Quinn are you alright? You're kinda sweaty here… and you look really pale!"

Quinn sucked in as much air as she could, eyes shooting wider than they had possibly every gone. What she said next seemed to come out as a wheeze rather than coherent words.

"Yeah I'm totally fine it's just kinda hot in this car but we're almost home anyway so I think I just need to have a drink of water or something and it'll be okay."

"Umm… alright then." Rachel said, narrowing her eyes. Again she reclined in her seat, holding Quinn's hand in both of hers.

Now Quinn was fully unsure with herself. Was it just Rachel's tendency to be overly physically affectionate? Was it _that_ that was making Quinn behave this way? She had no idea what her heart and her mind wanted anymore. Though she was pretty sure she knew what her _body_ wanted, as demonstrated just now. It was getting increasingly more… confusing.

"You know what? We should really go find some more CDs to sing along to in the car! Maybe we can find the soundtrack to _Funny Girl_! Gosh that would so amazing! And Quinn, you are a really good singer – I could teach you the duet parts for _Wicked_ songs!" Rachel was bouncing up in down in her seat, shaking Quinn's entire arm off as she enthused about holding musicals in the car.

"Rachel, I'm pretty sure my rendition of _Defying Gravity_ or _What Is This Feeling _would be frowned upon by our zombie neighbours. They may decide to shut me up permanently somehow. Or maybe, my singing will be so breathtakingly awe-inspiring that they'll all just drop dead from the sound of my angelic voice!" Quinn said cynically as she turned onto their street.

"I'm laughing so hard." Rachel retorted bluntly. "I mean it Quinn. You're an amazing singer and if no one told you during high school then I'm telling you now. We could do it! We could be the best Elphaba and Glinda in the post-apocalyptic revival of _Wicked_!"

"To call you an idealist is probably the understatement of the year."

Rachel glared at Quinn, speaking in mock arrogance. "You'll see. We can hold auditions. I'm sure hundreds will turn up to play the role."

"Yeah! Who knows, maybe a zombiefied Idina Menzel will show up in the queue!" Quinn joked, pulling up into the driveway. Rachel swatted a hand at Quinn's arm.

"Maybe I'll just ask Santana to sing with me. I'm sure she'd be up for it."

"I'm sure she would just _love_ to join you."

They passed by the Santana's Ferrari as they parked in the driveway. Quinn rolled her eyes, Santana accused her of attracting more zombies, but what attracted zombies better than a massive, bright red Ferrari parked right in the middle of the lawn?

"Better yet maybe you should ask to drive Santana's car."

"She wouldn't let me close enough to smell the paint job!" Rachel complained as they got out of the Cadillac. The day was already sweltering and it wasn't even ten yet. Quinn's white tank hugged her body as she opened the trunk, and Rachel caught herself staring a little too long.

"What?" Quinn asked, noticing Rachel's strange expression.

Rachel tore her eyes from Quinn's face and clumsily grabbed a crate from the trunk. "Nothing."

Who couldn't resist staring? After all, it was _Quinn_ she was looking at. Quinn the cheerleader, Quinn the symbol of perfection. Yet she herself didn't know how beautiful she was, and Rachel only wanted her to see that.

"Uh, you go ahead first, I'm gonna check things up here for a second."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I… uh… just gotta see if the house isn't falling apart. You know, maintenance…"

"Okay, see you inside." Rachel turned to leave. As soon as she was out of site, Quinn groaned aloud, and kicked on her the Cadillac's bumper. She kicked and kicked and kicked until a visible dent formed on the silver plate. By then a layer of sweat had wrapped itself around Quinn's body, and she gritted her teeth in frustration, slamming a hand on the car. Whatever the hell was happening to her needed to be solved soon.

* * *

><p>Rachel sat on the couch with her knees tucked up to her face; a look of mortification on her face. She looked up suddenly as Quinn appeared at the bottom of the steps, holding the food crates and looking well… <em>steamy…<em>

Quinn looked around, still in bafflement over what had happened in the car.

"Where's Brittany and Santana?"

Rachel was silent; her eyes went from Quinn, to the bathroom door. Quinn glanced at it suspiciously. She dropped her cargo on the carpet and went up to the bathroom, placing her ear near its door.

Quinn's face turned cherry red. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she stood stock-still. Her jaw fell onto the floor, and then into the ground, and then into the Earth's mantle. _Oh no they didn't._

"REALLY? REALLY? NOT IN THE SHOWER YOU GUYS. GET OUT. NOW!"

Rachel flinched, tucking her knees further into her chest. From inside the bathroom Quinn made out an orchestra of moans and giggles coming from the shower. And was Santana muttering in Spanish? Quinn groaned again, burying her head in her hands.

"And you're using up all the shower water! You don't know how hard it is to get that!" She pounded on the door with her fists, only eliciting louder giggles from the girls inside. "Ugh! Get out now!"

Quinn whirled around, exasperated. _Fucking bitches!_

Then she noticed Rachel, hiding behind her knees, also trying to hide her fairly obvious blush. They looked at each other in shock, Rachel looking slightly abashed. Underneath that look Quinn wondered whether Rachel wondered about what Quinn was wondering about… _what._

"Um… I- I- um…"

Rachel sucked in her lips, it appeared like she was trying to contain another round of word vomit as she grasped tighter and tighter onto her legs. Brittany's giggles and Santana's slurs and moans and Spanish garble seemed to become louder and louder until the entire basement thundered with the noise of what was most definitely shower sex. And instantly Quinn realized. The room stank of sex. The room was still dim, filled with the musky, humid smell of sweat and clothes. What on Earth had Brittany and Santana done in here? And for how long?

Quinn seethed. Yes she had a feeling her two friends would be _gettin' it on _one way or another. Four years of high school life had already told her what to expect from them. But she never would've predicted just how angry she was now, how ferociously her blood boiled and her mind reeled at the simple sound of their_ lovemaking. _Another wave of red overtook her face as she bent over, violently sweeping up her friends' clothes strewn all over the basement floor. She didn't want to admit it was _jealousy_ she was feeling now.

Rachel stared at Quinn with trepidation as she furiously picked up Santana's underwear. She looked on in hesitance; every sound that came from the bathroom causing her to clench herself tighter and tighter. Should she say something? From the look on Quinn's face, Rachel knew saying anything would probably illicit an explosion of some kind. Rachel swore she could see the fumes erupting from her blonde head, not to mention how red her face was turning. So Rachel sat curled up on the couch, grinding her teeth and trying to become as unnoticeable as possible.

A moment later the door slammed wide open, steam immediately bursting through the doorway. Two smiling girls stepped out of the bright room wrapped up in towels, looking very satisfied with themselves. Or each other. Rachel threw her eyes to the floor at once, suddenly finding it extremely interesting as she attempted to look nonchalant about the whole thing.

Quinn whirled around with the all the purpose and rage of a tornado and threw the pile of clothes at Santana's feet.

"What the hell!"

Santana's smile faded and she rolled her eyes, glaring up at Quinn as if she were preparing for a boxing match. _Now for the aftermath._

"I shouldn't even be surprised. Who the hell do you think you are? You have a lot of nerve showing up here, claiming that I know absolutely _nothing_ about living in this fucking _dismal_ world, yet you two ditzy idiots think its acceptable to use all the water that took months – long, hard _months_ to collect!" Quinn waved her hands in the air, almost hitting the two girls in front her. "How the fuck do you two live? How the hell can you just step in the shower and _do your fucking business_ without thinking about this stuff?" She spat in their faces, trembling with pure anger.

Santana took a breath, smiled calmly and drilled her gaze right into Quinn's fiery hazel eyes. "Sounds like _someone's_ got a green-eyed monster following her around…"

Quinn glared so hard at Santana that Brittany swore her eyeballs would fall out soon.

"This isn't about-"

"Oh – so its about _shower water?_" Santana smirked with venom. "_Please_, Quinn. You are so easy to read. I think you've lost your touch."

Quinn continued to stare at Santana defiantly, slowly succumbing to the unpleasant truth of Santana's words, yet she would never in a million years admit Santana was right. Santana had already won over though, and she knew it. Her dark, sultry eyes shot over to Rachel. God, she was so vulnerable. _Perfect._

"What about you Rachel? Are you as sexually frustrated as this blonde specimen over here? You can actually see her quivering on the spot, longing for someone to _touch_." Santana leered, running two fingers down the length of Brittany's arm. She sucked her lower lid to her teeth, boring holes into Rachel with her seducing gaze.

Rachel swallowed, trying hard to break eye contact with Santana. She knew where this was going, and it wasn't going to be a fun ride. Opposite Santana, Quinn didn't turn around; she didn't budge, afraid to see the look on Rachel's face, whatever expression she had on. Santana was singlehandedly bringing the awkward party into the house. Why was it suddenly so much hotter in here? Quinn crossed her arms, wiping the sweat on her palms onto her arms. The lump on her throat grew bigger and bigger as she waited for what Santana would say next, knowing that it would probably destroy her.

Santana snickered, eyes shooting back to Quinn. "So Berry, ever set your eyes on Quinn here? I know there isn't much of a catalogue for selection, but just look at her – this hot blonde mess. Ever just wanted to run your _man_ _hands _all over her naked, ravishing, wet body?" Santana turned to grin at Brittany, who was also wearing a slight blush. The girl giggled in delight. "Ever just wanted to grab her golden hair tight as she went down on you, making you writhe and shiver with sheer _pleasure…_"

"Stop. Please stop." Quinn whispered hoarsely, quiet enough so only Santana could hear. Her eyes were pleading; behind them images of Rachel flashed through her mind – she could no longer stop herself anymore.

Santana only smiled wider. She turned to Rachel again. "You need to loosen up; unwind. I can see it your eyes – how desperate you are to just… _release…_" Santana whispered the last word, licking her lips with satisfaction.

There was a long, steamy silence. Vapour continued to escape the bathroom, surrounding Brittany and Santana in a cloud of moisture. Rachel tried to keep her breathing steady, to show she wasn't being affected at all by Santana's lusty words, when in fact, she was melting inside. How on Earth was Rachel going to put up with her? She didn't know. She just held on to her legs for dear life, swallowing the saliva in her mouth with real effort.

Another moment passed and Santana sighed. "Jeez, you two are so wound up you're torturing yourselves. I don't know how you stand it. C'mon Britt let's find some clothes. You don't mind if we look through yours Quinn do you? No? Okay thanks."

Without allowing Quinn to respond Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and they turned the corner of the basement to sift through Quinn's belongings. Quinn continued to stand with her back to Rachel, shoulders slumped. She had no idea how she was going to untangle themselves out of this awkward mess. _Best to just play it cool._

Slowly she turned her head towards Rachel, petrified of what expression she had on. When she met her eyes, peeking out from over her knees, every muscle in her body sighed in relief. Rachel was smiling at her, every so slightly, still with a considerable blush on her face. Quinn gradually grinned back at her, cracking up a little at the idiocy of themselves. Rachel slowly joined in, until they were both laughing ridiculously at what had just happened. It was so preposterous! Of course Santana was only joking! The whole idea of it was insane! Right? Rachel was laughing so hard that the couch was shaking and Quinn was so unstable she had to bend over to hold her stomach. Anyone watching would've noted the hint of self-consciousness.

"Berry, quit yowling! You sound like a dying seagull giving birth!" Santana bellowed from the around the corner.

* * *

><p>"You know Rachel I think it's time to permanently remove those stitches." Quinn declared as she brought over a tray of food.<p>

Brittany eyed the tray hungrily, taking most of it off before Quinn had even set it down on the floor. Rachel was beaming, excited at the prospect of not being chained by her injuries anymore.

"How soon can we take them off?" Rachel demanded, bouncing up and down.

Quinn chuckled. "Soon. Very soon. Depends on how much more Santana intends on annoying me today."

Santana shot her a look, rolling her eyes. She looked at the tray of food with slight contempt, acknowledging the lack of variety. Nuts, nuts and more nuts. This was not going to become a routine.

"Quinn, ever tried hunting?"

Quinn looked up from her handful of peanuts, confused. "Hunting?"

"Yeah… you know… pursuing and killing an animal for food?" She spoke condescendingly.

"Yes, I know what hunting is San. Just never tried it. And there's no need to, there's still food to be found here in Lima!"

"Ugh, yeah it looks like a real five star meal you got there Quinn." She said, pointing at Quinn's hands.

Rachel glared at Santana. "I can't believe you condone such a gruesome activity! Don't you feel any remorse for the animals you slaughter? How can you just kill them without a second thought? I wonder how many poor, helpless creatures you've maimed and butchered!"

Santana scowled. "And _I _can't believe you're foolish enough to maintain your ridiculous vegan diet. It's not like it matters anymore! Don't think there's anyone left at the PETA headquarters to preach about how animals have souls!" She spat, grabbing a handful of pistachios from the tray.

"Enough fighting!" Brittany squealed, placing her hands over her ears.

"Brittany's right. Santana, you need to cool it. All this arguing over nothing is draining all our energy." Quinn said.

Santana leaned back on to her hands. "Whatever, fine. But as soon as we have a chance to get out, we're going hunting."

They sat there chewing in silence; Brittany spelling out her name with her almonds.

"Two 't's, Britt." Santana reminded, passing her a few of her uneaten nuts.

"Oh."

Quinn rocked back and forth, eager to keep Santana from re-entering bitch mode, maybe for at least five minutes.

"So… you guys gonna tell us what happened when you left Lima? I've always wondered what the hell happened in Fort Wayne. Seemed like it was chaos, if I can remember correctly. I can't believe it was freaking two years ago."

Brittany and Santana looked at each other with doubt, silently debating whether they wanted to explain what happened. Quinn looked on enthusiastically, leaning forward when Brittany nodded.

"It was a fucking maelstrom, Fort Wayne," Santana began. "There were hoards of people streaming in, and you could just tell from the look on everyone's faces that shit was about to go down. Pretty much as soon as we got there you could already see sick people walking the streets. And looking back, I think you two were lucky you stayed in Lima. Everyone coming in from Ohio thought they were safe. They couldn't have been more wrong." Santana thought back, eyes focusing on the little duck Brittany had made with her nuts.

Rachel, suddenly intrigued, placed her head in her palms and moved to lie on her stomach.

"Go on."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Two and half years ago, December 6<strong>__**th**__** 2011**_

_The night was shaded in a morose grey colour as the Lopez and Pierce cars pulled into Fort Wayne. The line of traffic was agonizingly slow; each car moving only a couple metres every minute. Much to Santana's disappointment, her parents hadn't allowed her to travel with the Pierces, so she sat there staring out the window, sulking. Every few minutes she'd look out the back of the car to make sure Brittany's care hadn't fallen behind. No matter what happened she vowed never to lose Brittany. If she did, then…_

"_Finally!" Her father exclaimed, stepping on the gas pedal. "Traffic's finally cleared." He was still wearing his white doctor's coat, having raced home to sweep up his family and take to the freeway._

_Not much else was said. Her parents were too nervous and looked too grim for a normal conversation. But what could you expect. Everyone arriving in Indiana was tense; you could see the faces of strangers in the other cars looking anxious and panicked. Santana was one of them, her brow was permanently furrowed, and every hour that passed caused to her to become increasingly agitated. Without Brittany by her side to calm her, she allowed herself to settle into a constant, cold sweat._

_Eventually they reached the inner city, but the sight wasn't comforting. People were rushing about, pushing each other over. Santana's eyes caught dozens of people already picking fights. She was sure there would be looting soon. Masses of civilians were crammed into the stores; people were shoving there way in and out with bags and boxes full of items. She wondered whether they'd all been stolen or bought. It didn't matter. It looked like the riots would start any minute now. _

"_Lock your doors mija," her mother instructed, voice shaking slightly._

_Santana obeyed quickly, before turning to see if Brittany's car was still behind theirs. Her heart stopped beating when she noticed it wasn't. She felt her body go hot, instantly feeling claustrophobic. _

"_Dad, Brittany's car is gone." She stated rapidly, trying to sound as calm as possible. It wasn't working, and she gripped the leather of her seat hard. She couldn't lose Brittany._

_Neither one of her parents answered. Had they even heard her? Santana spoke again, but she was met with a pleading look from her father in the rear view mirror. A look that said there was nothing to be done. Santana knew her dad would not stop for Brittany, especially since there was ongoing chaos transpiring right outside their car. Instead of prying, she kept her mouth shut, promising herself that she'd find Brittany later. _

_The plan was to get to the airport and fly to the west coast, or anywhere, really. Though from the look of the place Santana guessed that finding a seat on any flight to anywhere was going to be particularly difficult. Every car seemed to be heading in the same direction, like a mass exodus that would most likely end in turmoil. None of them even knew if all flights had been cancelled yet, to prevent the virus spreading. It was a hugely demoralizing thought. _

_Several minutes passed; Santana fidgeted and bounced her legs up and down, lost in her apprehension. She called Quinn to see if her family were in Fort Wayne. To her dismay, she was still stuck in Lima. The call didn't last long. The line broke and Santana told herself she had to move on. Hopefully she'd see Brittany at the airport. Hopefully she'd be able to convince two sets of parents to fly on the same plane to the same destination. The chances of both happening were dismally low. But she clung to hope desperately, knowing full well what lengths she'd go to ensure she and Brittany would be together no matter what happened tonight. _

_An hour passed and finally they saw themselves approaching Fort Wayne International. From a distance Santana could already make out swarms of people rushing about inside. The situation continued to look gloomy as they parked. Everyone was running. When Santana stepped out of the car she could already see other people looting the vehicles in the surrounding area. Her mother grabbed her arm, and the sped off running towards the airport entrance. _

_Inside was the worst scene Santana had ever been in the middle of. There was barely any order being maintained. People were literally climbing over one another to secure their place on a flight. They didn't care where, just as long as it was away from here. Santana's father led them through a winding mass of people who were fighting and screaming and yelling at each other; a couple of times Santana stumbled to make sure she wouldn't get caught up in a maul. Where were the guards? Her blood ran cold at the thought of them shooting people at random. _

_Santana's father was yelling something to her, but she couldn't hear – the uproar was too loud to comprehend anything. The Lopez family found themselves in a queue – albeit a disintegrating one – and in a flash her father had disappeared. _

"_Where's dad gone!" Santana shouted, trying to be heard over the commotion._

"_He's gone to see if there's any more flights!"_

_Any more flights? At this point they'd be considered lucky to have even made it to the airport without being mugged! Santana huffed. They were wasting time. Of course there'd be no more flights, just look at the place! Frustrated, Santana looked around, glaring at the animals fight over tickets that would probably be rendered useless very soon._

_As she stared at a man wrestling a small dweeb to the ground, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair bobbing up and down several metres away, in the middle of a massive crowd._

_Brittany._

_Against all rational thought she let her instincts guide her away from her parents and towards the beacon that had an extremely slim chance of actually being Brittany. She ignored all the voices in her head, screaming at her to turn around, to realize this was stupid and naïve. Thank God her mother hadn't noticed, so she was free to run directly into the jungle of bodies. Santana cried out Brittany's name over and over again, praying to whatever God above that it would be her. She thrashed and pushed people over, not caring about civility anymore. Shoving her way through, she finally arrived behind the girl with the blonde hair and grabbed her forcefully by the shoulder, twisting her around. _

_Santana's eyes crashed into piercing blue. It was her. _

_Immediately the blonde enveloped Santana into a hard embrace, eyes wide with shock. Santana wrapped her arms tight around Brittany's back, pledging to never let go again. They stood in the embrace for several long seconds, swaying and jerking as the crowd around them moved. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing but Brittany. _

_Brittany had lost her parents. So Santana did the only thing she could do. Quickly they made their way back towards her mother; clasping each other's wrists in a vice grip. When they arrived back at the 'queue', her parents were gone. But Santana had already expected this. She looked around frantically, scanning everywhere to make sure her parents were really missing. When she couldn't locate them she took a moment to register the fact; the fact that she'd most likely never see them again. Then she put on a mask of cold stone, deciding on one goal. She knew they had to get out of there quickly, and together. That was it. _

_By now there were people passed out on the floor, and blood was being spilled. It was obvious the flight schedule had been ruined, and that everyone here would have no chance of getting on a plane. Suddenly the heard gunshots being fired. That was their cue to vacate. People screamed, the crowd moving faster than ever. Brittany was holding onto Santana so tightly that the pain was excruciating; yet she relished in it, knowing at least that Brittany was still with her. Steadily they ran towards the exit. More gunshots fired, more screams erupted from one side of the check in hall. _

_Santana found herself running straight into a big, burly man; who flung his hands out in her face, pushing her to the hard, cold floor. _

"_Ugh! Fucking bastard!"_

_She cried out in pain, only really aware that she'd released Brittany's hand. Instantly she started getting up, and Brittany yanked at her arm as she stood. This time the blonde led the way through, dodging people with new agility and speed. Before they knew it they'd arrived at the main doors, only to meet dozens of more people trying to burst through the entrance at the same time. There wasn't any other option; Brittany and Santana plunged into the hoard of people, pushing them over if they had to. They fought their way to the other side of the crowd. Windows were being shattered, punches were being thrown, and neither of them could imagine it become any more chaotic than that._

_They couldn't be more wrong. As soon as they surfaced from the crowd trying to enter the airport, they were blasted with a freezing winter gust, making them shiver violently. The night was now pitch black, as if to tell them they were doomed. Still Santana held onto Brittany, thinking up a game plan. _

"_C'mon, we have to get as far away as possible. As soon as every idiot in there realizes there won't be any more flights to board, they'll come swarming back out." Santana stated. And then they took off, with nothing but each other and the clothes on their backs._

_It started to snow as they ran down the road away from the airport. Cars were still packed up one behind the other, with all the passengers inside unaware of what they would find when they reached the airport. Santana suddenly felt relief, knowing they had a head start. Within minutes their hands were ice cold and their legs ached in fatigue. When they finally reached the outskirts of the city they stopped for a moment, bent over their knees and panting like they'd just run a marathon. Their visible breath poured out of their mouths, like dragons that had no more fire to breathe. _

_Brittany noticed how badly Santana was shaking. She whipped off the red scarf around her neck and flung it around Santana._

"_No, keep it."_

_Brittany didn't listen. She didn't know Santana was only shaking because of sheer terror. But Santana didn't say; she put on her strongest face for Brittany, and for herself._

"_We need to find a car, San, or we'll freeze."_

"_Good idea."_

_They looked around; Santana spotted a small black Volvo nearby. Hesitantly she walked up to it, picking up a rock lying nearby. After looking around wearily she smashed the driver's window open. It shattered after two hits. They held their breaths, waiting for the alarm. Luckily there wasn't a sound. So she opened the door and immediately set to work on hot-wiring the car. Thank God Puck had shown her how to do this. It didn't take long until the car was in ignition. She unlocked the doors and Brittany hopped into the passenger seat. Then they were off._

_Santana was well aware she was sitting on glass shards, not to mention how hard the wind was blowing into her face from the massive hole in the window. It didn't matter; she had other things to think about. What were they going to do? What were they supposed to do at a time like this? It wasn't as if there was a correct plan they could follow. She thought back to all the zombie apocalypse movies she and Britt had seen together. Was this really happening? Santana fought the overwhelming urge to breakdown and cry. Everything seemed hopeless when they didn't have a clue what they were doing._

_They found themselves driving back into the city. Brittany turned on the radio to try and uncover what the hell was going on. Everything being announced put the girls in a new state of dejection. More states had been quarantined. There were riots and looting in every major city. All transport networks had been disabled. The airports had closed. _

_This meant that very soon the thousands of people swarming around Fort Wayne International would soon have to disperse. And Santana was pretty sure most of them would come here. She increased pressure on the gas pedal, instinctively trying to get away as fast as possible. By now the city of Fort Wayne was a burning mess. Every store was being raided, every window had been shattered and street fires were breaking out all over the place. People were fighting people, the girls caught glimpses of knives being unsheathed and guns being uncovered. The sight froze their skin like ice as they sped down the streets. _

_Santana turned a corner, where there was a fight with about ten people raging on the curb. Santana swerved to avoid them and almost ran over a tall boy stepping onto the road._

"_What the fuck! Watch where you're going!" She snarled out her broken window. Suddenly her eyes went wide and she gaped at the boy she'd almost hit._

"_Finn?"_

_As soon as she'd said it the attention of everyone was on her. _Shit. _Before she knew it the fight had continued, and the slightly surprised Finn was dragged back into the maul before being thrown to the floor. The strangers then advanced on Santana's car. She swivelled back round immediately to leave until she realized Brittany wasn't in her seat. Alarm bells rang in her ears as her heart rate burst through the roof, and at once, she was out of the car and engaging with the fight. _

_She was able to catch a quick glance at Brittany, who was swinging a baseball bat at a man's head. Santana didn't even have a second to wonder where on Earth Brittany had gotten it before she received a blow straight to the face, knocking her back a metre and sending her mind reeling. Completely stunned and her vision blurred, she was helpless, watching the figures of two men advance on her slowly. That was until she heard gunshots. Straightaway Santana felt defeat wash everything away. She dropped onto the floor, ready to die. Five more gunshots sounded and Santana twitched with every one, waiting for a bullet to enter her own skin. It never came._

_With her palms on the cement Santana slowly regained her senses. All she could think about was Brittany now. Was she alive? Was she hurt? Where was she?_

"_Brittany." _

_Santana heard the sound of boots. She was still knelt on the floor when she saw the barrel of a shotgun in front of her, facing the ground. Slowly, Santana looked up; up a pair of dark blue jeans, up the length of a dark leather jacket, and straight into the face of one Noah Puckerman. _

_He stared grimly down at Santana before helping her to her feet. Immediately Santana's eyes searched for Brittany. She was standing next to her, looking utterly horrified with her baseball bat covered in dark red blood. Santana fell into her arms, more relieved than she'd ever felt before, completely ignoring the fact that Brittany had just killed someone for the first time, and that Puck must've just shot about seven people in one go. There were too many things going on for that fact to be even significant._

"_Santana we don't have time for this now." Finn's voice came from behind. _

_The girls broke the hug and turned to face Puck and Finn._

"_Thank you," Santana whispered to Puck. He merely nodded, looking stern and worried. _

_There was blood on his face, running down his jaws. Finn also had bruises on his neck and a nasty gash on his leg. _

"_I have to find Kurt." Finn declared. "We lost him just now when these guys tried to steal our shotgun. He's injured really badly and we have to get this antiseptic back to him." Finn held up his backpack with the supplies inside. _

_Santana raced through decisions and options in her mind. Was it wise to stay with Finn and Puck, considering they had no one else? It seemed like the obvious choice. However, Santana didn't have a say after all, as Brittany was leading them to the car. _

"_You guys can come with us in the car." Brittany offered. _

_No one hesitated. They made their way back to the Volvo, Santana reaching the driver's seat first. No one argued with her. They drove in the direction Finn instructed._

"_You hotwired this thing didn't you," Puck asked craftily._

"_Yep, sure did."_

"_That's my girl!" Puck allowed himself to grin, proud of himself._

_Brittany turned around in the passenger's seat and narrowed her eyes at him as she waved the baseball bat._

"_Ugh… I mean – that's _your_ girl…" Puck corrected himself, flinching away._

_Santana allowed a sly smile to creep onto her face for a moment. Other than that there wasn't any optimism at all. All the happiness had been sucked out of the four of them; even Brittany was now coming to terms with what she'd done just a few minutes ago. She looked down at her baseball bat, pondering just how she managed to go through with killing a person. The look on his face as she beat his head into pieces was still stuck to the back of her eyelids. Was she turning into a merciless killer? Brittany shuddered; knowing the memory of the man's tortured face would stay with her forever. _

_Santana seemed to sense this, and reached over, taking Brittany's cold hand in hers. There wasn't much more comfort to be given at a time like this._

"_There." Finn pointed to an almost decimated seven eleven on the other side of the block. Santana sped up, thinking what a stupid place to hide in._

"_We were attacked by a psycho, I'm not even kidding – he pounced on Kurt like he was insane. I've never seen anything like it. The guy was crazy! And, well, you can see for yourself what happened to him. The seven eleven was the closest place where we thought we could find bandages, so hopefully he's still there." Finn explained, his voice a little weaker than usual. _

_Santana slammed the breaks right outside the store in the middle of the road. The four of them raced through the broken automatic doors to get out of the cold; the lights had been smashed, making it hard to see. Santana noticed all the shelves had been cleared and there were various items scattered all over the floor. Blood stains dotted the place; she could tell there had been a massive fight in here of some kind. There was a small light glowing from one of the aisles and Finn directed the group over to it. Sure enough, there was Kurt, sitting with his back to a shelf and Blaine by his side. Brittany gasped. There was a bandage around Kurt's right eye, but you could tell it wasn't doing much, since blood still seeped through. The bandage soaked it up so that it wasn't even white anymore, but rather it was stained a dark red, and even more blood was pouring down one side of Kurt's grime covered face. From the sight of it, this 'mad man' had mutilated his eye irreparably. _

"_Brittany, Santana." He acknowledged them with a forced sense of surprise, not bothering to look at them._

_Blaine grabbed Finn's backpack, not caring that the girls were now part of the company. He spilled the contents of the bag onto the floor in a frenzy. _

"_It's gonna be okay Kurt." His voice trembled as he began to lift Kurt's useless bandage off of his eye. Santana had never seen Blaine so terrified._

_Brittany turned away, along with the other boys. Kurt didn't say a word. He simply sat there in total desolation, like he'd completely given up on life. His one good eye was lifeless, staring down at the floor as his hands clenched, fighting to tolerate the pain. Finn grabbed the lamp from the floor and held it up so Blaine could inspect the horror of the wound. _

_Santana swallowed audibly as she looked at it. The area around it was so swollen that the eye was barely visible. Blood was falling out from wounds she couldn't even see, and there was a cut was so deep above the eye that she could see the muscles protruding out; pink tissue unfolding as Blaine removed the bandage. Kurt simply winced, keeping his good eye to the floor._

"_Kurt, who did this to you?" Santana asked, disgusted._

"_It was just an ordinary man. Rather he was some insane lunatic who just decided he wanted to attack me. He was crazy, over his mind crazy." Kurt muttered with venom. "It seemed like he wasn't himself, he seemed extremely pale, like he was sick. I remember his eyes though, his eyes screamed like he wanted to eat me, or something worse."_

"_Shh, just hold on for a second Kurt." Blaine whispered as he applied a cloth to Kurt's face. It stung worse than a dozen bees stinging at once, and felt like his face was slowly burning off. Everyone would've expected him to be screaming in agony, but Kurt was silent except for a few hitches in his breath, or an occasional grimace._

"_How did he do that to your eye?" Santana inquired further, slowly sinking in cold fear. If the man had just randomly attacked him with no reason, then who knew how many others would do the same to her?_

_Kurt sighed when the cloth was removed. Blaine put a hand on Kurt's knee in sympathy. _

"_He kind of fell on top of me, the man. But not before he put a knife to this." Kurt gestured to his wound. Blood was now dripping from his jaw line onto his blue- buttoned shirt. "Thanks to Puck he's now lying in some ditch." Puck swung his gun a little. _

_Santana pursed her lips, confused by Kurt's description. It seemed all too 'gory horror movie' to be realistic. Puck looked at her with a similar expression. He gestured with his head towards the end of the aisle. Santana nodded, understanding what he wanted. The two of them walked away, leaving Brittany and Finn to help with Kurt's wound._

_Puck and Santana stood by the entrance, looking at the ominously empty dark street outside. The only light came from the blazing buildings in the distance, and a cold wind seeped through the cracks of the doors, forcing Santana to feel the hairs on her neck rise._

"_What Kurt was saying-"_

"_Yeah it sounds totally whack but believe me it's real. That's not the only thing though." Puck interrupted._

"_Well what the hell is it?"_

_Puck moved his head closer to Santana's ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. "They're turning."_

_Santana staggered back and stared at Puck like he had gone insane too. "What the fuck are you on about."_

_The corners of Puck's mouth turned upwards ever so slightly. "Zombies."_

_Santana glared at Puck, fully astounded. "You've got to be kidding me. This is why you brought me here? To tell me a whole bunch of sick bullshit?"_

"_I'm not kidding you. I swear. And if they're not zombies then they're certainly acting like them anyway. You should've seen it San, the guy just looked like he wanted to rip Kurt's face off! And he would've if it weren't for this!" Puck lifted his shotgun._

"_I hope someone eats your mohawk off, Puckerman!" Santana started to head back to Kurt._

_Puck grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "See for yourself."_

_Santana felt her blood turn to ice. Slowly she turned around, facing the black street outside. At first all she saw were three people standing still. _

Wait.

_Three people. Standing still. Statue still. Santana formulated the situation in her mind, coming to terms with what she was actually seeing. She glared at Puck, then back at the people on the street, then back at Puck. He raised his blood stained shirt, taking out a pistol that was in the back of his jeans. Santana stared in dread at the three 'people' in front her as they eerily turned in unison to face the seven eleven._

_All three of them had big, black marbles for eyes that stared hungrily at Puck and Santana. It was like their souls had escaped them, leaving their heads hollow and dark. They were all extremely pale, as if all the blood had been drained from their systems. Santana was still unable to believe what she was seeing, even when one of them let out a dog's growl, even when all three of them began advancing towards the store at once. Santana just gaped in horror, feet rooted to the spot as she felt the blood drain from her own face._

_Puck didn't hesitate. He smacked Santana on the back and suddenly she was awake. _

"_Are you ready to kill your first zombie?" He asked like it was fun, thrusting his pistol towards her._

_Santana swallowed, accepting Puck's words as truth. It was insane. It was incredulous. But right now, Santana pushed her feelings aside, just as she had done for the entire night so far. She snatched the gun from Puck's outstretched hand, nodding in earnest._

"_Let's do this."_

* * *

><p><strong>My longest chapter yet! Hope you guys enjoyed the Santana version of the story, with her Pucktana BrOTP. I couldn't be bothered to proof read, so if you find any mistakes then I apologize again. Please review! I promise the next few chapters will hold some intense faberry development.<strong>

**Glee in four days! It'd better be worth the wait, or ELSE...**

**:(**


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